A bottle of hope sat on the shelf – Room 101

Just something about bleached anus’

This is in response to M’s fabulous prompts which you can see here. These used to be 101 words. Sometimes they still are. Sometimes not. They are often snippets, occasionally unfinished and sometimes simply the beginnings of something for another time. Mostly though they are just whatever the words inspire.

“Another,” Balthazar demanded, and slammed his glass on the bar top. His wings bristled, and the dim light glinted on the tips of his horns as he looked around the room. Small wisps of smoke drifted from his nostrils and his thin lips curled up in a sneer, revealing his sharp, white teeth.

A tall, pale faced creature with skin like dirty snow wandered across, his deep blue eyes flashed as he poured a thick, dark liquid into the waiting glass.

“Long day?” He asked. The barkeep pushed the cork back into the bottle, wiped the bar top habitually, and then flicked the cloth so that it sat across his shoulder.

Balthazar snarled and downed the drink, again loudly demanding a refill.

“You sure about that?” Asked the tall, pale creature. “This stuff don’t come cheap you know, and ….”

“Another!” Balthazar roared.

The glass was quickly filled, and then filled once more. The rage in Balthazar’s eyes dimmed slightly with each consumed glass, and by the time he had finished two more he placed the empty vessel quietly.

“Yes,” he said, letting out a long deep sigh.

“Yes, what?” the bar keep asked puzzled, as he offered the bottle once more.

Balthazar placed a hand over the glass and shook his head.

“Long day. You asked me if it had been a long day. Yes, yes it has. Really long.”

The barkeep nodded and placed the bottle back on the shelf behind him as Balthazar continued.

“It’s people you see,” he said, the wisps of smoke now gone and the fire in his eyes dimmed. “You know how it is with them right?” He didn’t, however, wait to find out whether the barkeep did, or did not, know how it was with people and continued. “Every day I get up, clean my horns, sharpen my teeth and ensure that my skin suit is clean and presentable. I’m never late, I stay late, and I give my very best efforts. You know what that gets me?” He asked.

A wide mouthed, bat like creature with ears where its eyes ought to be and eyes where its ears ought to be settled on the bar next to him and looked him up and down. It then caught the attention of the barkeep and asked for two vodka martinis to be delivered to table seven.

“You know how it is with people right?” Balthazar asked it, “you know how they are I’m sure.”

The bat like animal flashed a smile with its ear-eyes and gave Balthazar what he took be a confirmatory nod, and flittered off towards the back of the room where what appeared to be a couple of snakes were having a loud disagreement over the existential power of apple imagery in medieval architecture.

“You see, he knows,” Balthazar said, “he knows what they’re like.”

The barkeep was used to this sort of thing, he tended to see it a lot as the week wore on. First thing Monday morning everyone was filled with the optimism of the week ahead, the potential for pain and suffering, the chance to make a real difference and bring proper misery and sadness. But by Wednesday he could see the doubt seeping in as the long hours took their toll. By Friday the stark reality would dawn on them and they would flock to the bar after work with a pocket full of silver and a big old dose of reality.

“People,” the barkeep said knowingly.

“Exactly!” Proclaimed Balthazar. “See, you get it too. There is nothing that we can do to them that they probably haven’t already done to each other.” He seemed invigorated in finding someone who understood his plight. “Do you know, that just this morning I was doing some anal stretching on a school teacher from California, and do you knwo what she said?”

The barkeep shook his head.

“Bleach. She asked for bleach. Said she wanted to look her best and was wondering if she might be able to put a picture of it it on the ‘gram becasue she was pretty sure none of her friends would believe it.” Balthazar took a deep breath to compose himself, visibly shaking. “Do you know how hard it is to find bleachg down here?” He continued. “But even when I did find some it really wasn’t as if it was my idea, so where’s the joy in that. I had intended to start with gaping and progreess from there. I mean most people finish at gaping, so I set a high bar, professionally speaking. But I just couldn’t relly get into it. She stole all the pleasure from it. Left me with this horrible empty feeling right in the pit of my stomach.”

“That’s out of order,” said the barkeep as he signalled the bat like creature to fetch the drinks for table seven.

“Damn right it is, I had to desecrate a couple of yoga teachers to try and make myself feel better about things, but sometimes even defiled yoga teachers aren’t enough to make you feel good.”

“So what did you do?” The barkeep asked as Balthazar motioned to his empty glass once more.

“2 million likes for a bleached stretched anus,” Balthazar replied, his shoulders slumped and his eyes dark with disappointment. “Two million. I swear, we really should have just left them to it. They dont take anything seriously, and nothing we can do can make it any worse up here…fuck them all.”

Captivating confines – Room 101

Just a wee something…

This is in response to M’s fabulous prompts which you can see here.  These used to be 101 words.  Sometimes they still are.  Sometimes not.  They are often snippets, occasionally unfinished and sometimes simply the beginnings of something for another time.  I think for the rest of the month I will do really simple poems…maybe.


Soft to the touch plush velvet thick

he wakes, smooth on his face

and all alone heart races quick

and darkness fills the place

He calls but muffled is his voice

And nothing stirs without

In confines tight he strains to move

They cannot hear him shout

Red bleeding nails they scratch and claw

His voice calls loud as thunder

Alone beneath the earth he lies

Just roughly six feet under




Lipstick Lover – Room 101

Why not eh…

This is in response to M’s fabulous prompts which you can see here.  These used to be 101 words.  Sometimes they still are.  Sometimes not.  They are often snippets, occasionally unfinished and sometimes simply the beginnings of something for another time.  Mostly though they are just whatever the words inspire.  

Connor stood at the bar and finished his…what was it?  Sixth? Seventh drink?

He wasn’t really sure and to be honest it didn’t really matter and the bar man wasn’t interested as long as he kept paying.  But whichever drink it was he finished it in one and beckoned for another, sliding the glass across the bar top.

“Steady on there cowboy” came a voice as smooth and as sweet as honey.  “Drinking alone will get you in trouble.”

He turned slowly, instincts telling him to play it cool and the booze leaving him unsteady on his feet.

“What if I like trouble” he said placing a hand on the sticky bar top to steady himself.  The barman glanced over and shook his head smiling.  “What if I just enjoy…”  He stopped short.

“What if you just enjoy what?” she said running her hand up his arm.

Perhaps it was the drink, or maybe it was the truth – or at least the sort of truth you believe after however many drinks he had finished – but he was certain that she was the more gorgeous thing he had ever seen.

Short dark wavy hair framed her face and her dark eyes smiled and for a minute it felt like she was looking right into his soul.  It made him uncomfortable and excited at the same time.  Actually mostly he was just excited.

Even in the dark of the bar he could see that beneath her tight red dress she had a body built for sin and the slit in her skirt showed more leg than he’d seen even when he was still married and certainly since.  He couldn’t help but stare at her mouth as she spoke, her lips a bright red in stark contrast to her pale skin.

“Cat got your tongue?” She said smiling.

Christ she smelled good he thought, willing her to bit her lip.  He loved a lip biter.  Chances were he’d explode right where he stood if she did.  He took a breath and offered to buy her a drink.

“Oh I’m not really thirsty” she said edging closer and leaning in to whisper in his ear, her hand on chest and the sweet scent of vanilla filling his senses.

“Now? You sure?”  His heart pounded as she nodded. He turned and gave the barman a thumbs up as she lead him from the bar.  “Still got it” he shouted across the noise of the room.  The barman waved and wiped down the bar top.

Holding her hand her skin was soft and he watched her as she walked just ahead of him, her backside like two kittens fighting in a sack.  He couldn’t wait to get his hands on her.  She lead him outside and they slipped down the side of the building and around the back of the bar, neon lighting their way and her heels clicking as they went.

“How’s about here?” she said turning around and pushing him against the wall forcefully,  pressing herself against him.  His hands instinctively reached for her the kittens and he squeezed her as she bit her lip staring at him.

“Oh god” he muttered.

“What’s wrong honey?” she asked, her mouth now just inches from his and her hands on his chest and sliding slowly downwards.  He gasped as he felt her unbuckle his belt and tried to kiss her, hungry to taste her lips.

She pulled back and grinned.  “So You ready then?” she said playfully.  He nodded and closed his eyes, desperate to feel her fingers around him.

She pressed closer still and he felt every curve of her body against his.  He could feel her breath on his lips and he knew that any minute he would feel her soft warm candy red lips.  His hands ran up her back and then back down her sides, resting on her hips, as she pulled down his zip.  God this was really happening he said to himself.  He wanted to touch her, to feel her, explore her.

“I…” he struggled for words as he felt the button of his jeans being opened.

She stopped and took his hand from her hip and steered him to her stomach and then guided him lower still.

“You want it don’t you?” he said staring into her eyes.

She nodded and licked her lips.

Every fibre in his body reacted and he reached under the slit of her skirt, her skin smooth and warm.

“Oh yes baby do it” said kissing closing her eyes.

His heart pounded and he spun her around, reversing their positions and pushing her against the wall.  This was it, he was going to have her.  Right here.  Tight now.

He leaned in and kissed her, lips soft and warm and her tongue already searching for his as their lips met.  His hand slid further under her skirt and she bit his lip playfully groaning as his hand passed over her thigh.

“Yes, oh yes” she said and kissed him back, her stance widening welcoming him between her thighs.  “Touch me.”

As her tongue entered his mouth he closed his eyes and reached for her, hungry to feel how she was responding to him.

“Christ” he said stepping back, the colour draining from his face.  “You…you’re…”

“What’s wrong baby?” she asked running her finger over her lips. “Jealous because it’s bigger than yours?”

The dream of all dreams – Room 101

A thing for Friday

This is in response to M’s fabulous prompts which you can see here.  These used to be 101 words.  Sometimes they still are.  Sometimes not.  They are often snippets, occasionally unfinished and sometimes simply the beginnings of something for another time.  Mostly though they are just whatever the words inspire.  This one goes with this one I did yesterday as I felt they went well together…


Stan’s eyes felt heavy, as if pinned down by the weight of the darkness that surrounded him, his head filled with a static that made it hard to think.  Hard to remember.  He could hear a beep, beep, beep as he lay whilst his mind scrambled to piece the shards of remembrances together.

With an effort that took everything he had, he strained against the confusion and managed to pry them open, only to be met by vague and confusing out of focus images.  Wincing he closed them again and succumbed to the comfort of the embracing blackness.

“Where…?” He asked himself, “where is this?” His mouth dry as he struggled to find the right words as a mix of sounds and smells washed over him like the lapping of distant waves.

And then he heard her, feint above the beep, beep, beep, somehow familiar and comforting, and he knew she mattered more than anything, but in a moment as he reached out she was gone, slopping through his fingers like fog.

He opened his mouth to scream, to call her name, but there was nothing there, only a suffocating silence and each breath felt like a fire trapped inside his chest.  Fists clenched he tried to move, to reach out, to grab hold of her and to tell her to wait but she melted into the inky shadows of  his mind as the beep, beep, beep slowed.






Petals and Parasols – Room 101

Another thing about stuff and people and more stuff

This is in response to M’s fabulous prompts which you can see here.  These used to be 101 words.  Sometimes they still are.  Sometimes not.  They are often snippets, occasionally unfinished and sometimes simply the beginnings of something for another time.  Mostly though they are just whatever the words inspire.  This one goes with this one I did yesterday as I felt they went well together…


Whenever the rain fell he thought of her, of the time they had spent in Paris together and how they had loved without any thought for the repercussions.  To fall so hard and so deep and so very, very quickly was intoxicating and she was a tempest like no one he had ever known .

He remembered the way she looked as she slept, the morning sun golden on her soft pale skin as she lay naked on the bed.  He could still feel her against him when he closed his eyes, the way she smelled and moved.

She made him feel complete and like nothing else mattered, only whatever it was that they were when they were together, which was always.

Watching the rain pool and swirl about his feet he pulled the collar of his coat around his ears and tried to forget the times when the bed was empty, when the clock ticked by as he sat alone and wondered where she was.  She had so many friends, it was understandable because she was pure joy to be around and you could not but help to want to spend time with her.

The rain, cold on his cheeks, mingled with tears as cars drove by splashing onwards through the night and off into the distance.  Standing on the bridge looking out over the Seine feint church bells called out and he saw her face again, filled with the pain and sadness that his jealousy had caused and he recalled with a knot in his stomach how she had begged him to trust her.

Most of all though he remembered the silence that followed her screams…



A Day of Denial – Room 101

Another thing about stuff and people and more stuff

This is in response to M’s fabulous prompts which you can see here.  These used to be 101 words.  Sometimes they still are, like this one.  Sometimes not.  They are often snippets, occasionally unfinished and sometimes simply the beginnings of something for another time.  Mostly though they are just whatever the words inspire.  This one goes with this one I did yesterday as I felt they went well together…

The sea of smiling faces turned as the doors opened slowly, the first strains of the organ playing.

She was a vision in white but all he could feel was rage.  Rage at the thing inside her, the thing that bound him to her.  Rage at how they valued nothing but money, and who saw him as merely another thing to be possessed.

She smiled at her sister as she approached, another vacuous thing living only to please daddy.  “I should bend her over” he thought to himself smiling.

The music stopped as she took his hand.

“You look beautiful darling.”






You look beautiful


Blushing Brilliance – Room 101

Another thing about stuff and people and more stuff

This is in response to M’s fabulous prompts which you can see here.  These used to be 101 words.  Sometimes they still are, like this one.  Sometimes not.  They are often snippets, occasionally unfinished and sometimes simply the beginnings of something for another time.  Mostly though they are just whatever the words inspire.  This one goes with another to be published tomorrow as I felt they went well together…

As the doors opened she saw him standing there, waiting, smiling.  So very obedient and willing, like a little dog.  He was far from perfect but he would do for now.

She instinctively touched her stomach and breathed deep.  “God it better be a boy” she thought to herself.  That would shut her sister up for sure, her and her watery bollocked husband.  They’d only given him girls and they both knew how much the old man wanted a grand son.

“Ready pumpkin?” he asked, the music playing.  “He’s waiting.”

She squeezed his hand and smiled.

“Thank you daddy, for everything”



Creatures of curiosity and charisma – Room 101

Another thing about stuff and people and more stuff

This is in response to M’s fabulous prompts which you can see here.  These used to be 101 words.  Sometimes they still are.  Sometimes not.  They are often snippets, occasionally unfinished and sometimes simply the beginnings of something for another time.  Mostly though they are just whatever the words inspire

“There is no chance, none at all” the Great and Mighty insisted as he willed a rather magnificent nebula into existence.  “I know them well and there is more to them than you give them credit for.”

The All Knowing smiled and warmed himself on the majesty of a billion suns before replying, the twinkle of a dying red dwarf in his eyes.

“I think we both know that it is because they are capable of so much that it is likely to come to pass.”

The Great and Mighty made a noise like an imploding sun and added his signature helium spiral to the nebula.

“Looks good” the All Knowing said stepping back to appreciate it for a nanosecond.  “All I am saying mate is that you keep trying and you always end up disappointed.  That is our lot my friend, I do not mean to be cruel but it will be that way for an eternity of eternities.”

“He’s right you know” said Eternity nodding as she admired the Great and Mighty’s nebula.  “About them and your lot.  I do admire your persistence though, you are quite the optimist G.  Oh and the ionized gas clouds they are quite lovely by the way.  Great job.”

The Great and Mighty scratched himself and quite grumpily screwed the nebula into a ball and defiantly shoved it deep inside a black hole.

“Oh G, come on that’s a bit of a waste it was rather pretty” Eternity insisted.  “Don’t be such a baby.”

The Great and Mighty folded his arms in defiance and turned his back on her.

“Mate, no need to be such a drama queen about it” the All Knowing said reaching into the blackhole and putting the nebula back in place the best he could.  Admittedly he was more a fan of stars but didn’t mind trying his hand at new things if the chance arose.

“He can only be in charge for 8 years at the most anyway…”

Seeds of Solitude – Room 101

Another thing about stuff and people and more stuff

This is in response to M’s fabulous prompts which you can see here.  These used to be 101 words.  Sometimes they still are.  Sometimes not.  They are often snippets, occasionally unfinished and sometimes simply the beginnings of something for another time.  Mostly though they are just whatever the words inspire

Two hundred and fifty miles above the Earth Rhoda thumbed frantically through the thick comms manual, static filling the research station’s cockpit.   

“Come on come on where the fuck are you” she muttered to herself, quickly flicking through the  schematics.  With both the main and secondary array’s knocked out she needed to find another way to get back online and she needed to do it quickly.

Looking up she glanced out of the low wide window which ran along the port side of the capsule. 

“Shit.  Shit, shit, shit.” She exclaimed, her mouth wide and fingers involuntarily losing their grip as the heavy manual clattered onto the metal flooring.  She pushed herself off and drifted closer to the window, her mind filled with the faces of Mal and the kids. Six months she’d given up for the chance to be up here.  Six months on her own.  Six months that were going to make a difference down there but now?  Did they even have any idea of what was coming?  

She closed her eyes and for a moment she was back home one last time.  Mal was making breakfast.  Pancakes.  They were mostly inedible but he was a good man and he tried and he was a better dad to the girls and a better husband to her than Dale had ever been.  And the kids loved him and that counted for a lot.

Before she could drag him back to bed Rhoda sensed a shift in the vessels trajectory and the ear splitting wail of the station’s proximity alarm dragged her back to reality.  With her heart racing she opened her eyes and looked out again and watched the white arcs criss-cross the Atlantic below.  If the Proximity sensors were working then she might be able to tap into those and …

“Oh fuck” she said realising it no longer mattered, picking out a single missile that had turned towards the station.

Closing her eyes suspended two hundred and fifty miles above home she helped Mal with the washing up and looked out onto the garden watching the girls play in the early morning sun.  And waited…

The Realm of Reliability – Room 101

I’d not bother really I was just trying to get back on the horse with this piece after a while away from my keyboard…

this is in response to M’s fabulous prompts which you can see here.  These used to be 101 words.  Sometimes they still are.  Sometimes not.  They are often snippets, occasionally unfinished and sometimes simply the beginnings of something for another time.  Mostly though they are just whatever the words inspire

He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling watching the shadows give way slowly to the first rays of daylight.  He was cold, the threadbare blanket barely covered him, and his head felt foggy.  Looking about the room he could pick out only the bed where he lay and a small table on the opposite wall on which sat a number of dog eared books and some scraps of paper.

The pale light seeped through the small slit of a window high up in the wall and as he became accustomed to the darkness he could pick out the feint outline of a door.  He rubbed his eyes and tried to remember but there was nothing there. No recollection of where he was or why.  Or even who.  All that existed was this moment and nothing more.

He swung his feet out of bed and onto the cold concrete floor and draped the blanket around his shoulders.  Stretching out a hand towards the wall behind the bed he felt the same cold dampness that he could feel in his bones. 

“Hello?” He shouted into the darkness as he shuffled towards where he thought he could make out the door.  No response came as he searched for a handle but there was none.  The door was a cold metal and he raised a fist and banged on it but it was so heavy that it was barely audible.

“Is anyone there?” He shouted again.  There was no response.  He repeated the process but something inside told him it would be of no use, something familiar, and he made his way back over to the table and pulled out a rickety wooden chair and sat down.

He pushed the books and old newspapers to one side and with his head in his hands, searched in the confusion of his mind for something to hold onto but It was like trying to grasp fog, and everything just seemed to slip through his fingers and into darkness. 

Breathing deep he closed his eyes as distant sounds began to float towards him.  Fists clenched he focussed and between breaths he could make out the sounds of children laughing.  They were distant and feint, but familiar too. And there was a knot in his stomach as they became louder.  He heard a name called out.  “Marie”.  Quite clear and distinguishable and then like the voices it slipped through his grasp.

He mouthed her name as the room grew lighter, memories stirring, and reached for the newspapers.   They were old, yellowing and brittle and the headlines swam before his eyes.  He traced a shaking finger below the words and felt his body begin to shake as they formed pictures in his mind.  He had been here before though, he had felt this disconnect, this familiar nothingness.

“She was only 7 years old” he muttered to himself.  His breathing quickened as he continued to read and somewhere in his mind there flickered an ember of remembering.  Names once known now clear and faces familiar appeared through the thick fog and each word he read fanned the embers into flames.

“Oh god” he said to himself turning quickly to the inside pages to continue reading.  His hands trembled and his mouth was dry.  He knew her.  Or maybe he knew of her.  No, he definitely knew her.

The dark unspeakable deeds on the pages formed images in his head, as clear as day, and unable to continue reading he closed his eyes and heard what he knew was not laughter but a panicked mother calling out.

He pushed himself away from the table, heart pounding, eyes wide.  It couldn’t be true, it just couldn’t.  He told himself that he would never do those things, that it wasn’t him, that she was only a child and that he would never do that to a child.   But he knew that he had.

“No” he screamed and lashed out sending the books and papers spilling across the floor.  Turning to the door he threw himself against the cold metal and pounded it with a fist.  “I didn’t do it, I didn’t” he protested, but he knew that he had.  He had done every single one of those vile acts described in the pages of the newspaper and more.

He slumped to the floor and curled into the foetal position.  All the fog that had clouded his mind was lifted and he remembered everything.  Her face, her name, the things he had done and over and over, this room.  Memories vivid and clear and a madness gripped him as a voice flooded the room.

“Good morning Walter” it said calmly.  “I see you have remembered.”

 “I didn’t do it “ he shouted sitting up, “it wasn’t me.  You have the wrong person.”  He knew what was to come though and wild eyed stared up towards the light as it streamed through the small barred window.

“Denial is no defence Walter” the voice continued. “Acceptance is the first step to repentance.  Sleep well Walter, tomorrow we will try again…”

Devil’s Delight – Room 101

One for all you believers out there

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. I try to do them in 101 words but sometime not.  .  The prompt was ‘Devil’s Delight’

Leyak rapped against the heavy wooden door and stepped back and waited.  Beyond he could hear the shuffling of feet but no call to enter came.

“Knock again” urged Abraxas.  “He needs to come out.  They’re expecting him.”

“Shut up will you, you’re not the one doing the knocking” Leyak snapped taking a deep breath and raising a trembling hand to knock again.   He could feel the heat seeping from the room beyond and if he had a heart then it would most certainly have been pounding.  “You know what he’s like this time of year.”

Abraxas ran a curled claw down the column of a sheet clamped to the clipboard in his hand his eyes hovering over the numbers.  His nostrils flared and his skin glowed red as small flames danced between the short black horns on his head.  “Fine, I ‘ll do it.” he said sharply knocking on the door.  “We really don’t have time for this.  He’s due out tonight and it’s in his contract.”

With a sharp thud and a rumbling of thunder a deep voice, full of dread and malice barked back.

“Leave me alone, I don’t want to do it.”

“Sir please” pleaded Abraxas.  “This is it.  Your big finale, the thing these last six thousand years have been leading to.”

“No, I’m tired of being the bad guy.  Get someone else to do it.”

The imps exchanged confused glances.

“Sir?  I’m sorry but there is no one else.  This is your gig.  Your crowning glory.  Your time to reign.”  Said Abraxas leaning in towards the door warily.

“Plus we all get to get out for a bit boss” added Leyak, “and I know the lads are really looking forward to it.”

“Well I don’t want to.  Why is it that I have to do this.  If I am honest, I actually like things just as they are and I’ve become quite accustomed to it and I really don’t like change.  Plus it’s just not fair.”

Abraxas reached cautiously for the door handle.

“And another thing” came the voice from behind the door.  “I am pretty certain that I’m getting a pretty raw deal you know.  After all these years and all the awful things he let happen I have to turn up and be the bad guy and he then gets to save the day.  I don’t recall that being in my contract.”

“But sir, you made her eat the apple” said Abraxas impatiently.

The floor shook as a roar tore through the air the door shaking and both Abraxas and Leyak cowered pressed against the wall.

“I’ll have you know I never made her do a damned thing” he bellowed, heavy footsteps approaching the door.  “She wanted it and anyway, it was just a bloody apple.  You know what the problem is don’t you?  Do you want me to tell you?”

He waited for the cowering creatures to respond and when they didn’t he carried on anyway.

“The problem is, is that he is a bit of a twat to be honest.  It was just a bloody apple and he then goes off on one being all vengeful and dickish and ends up killing his own son over it.”

Leyak pulled himself back to his feet and took the clipboard from Abraxas who remained curled up in a ball on the floor.

“Sir please, we really need to go there’s a schedule to keep.”

There was a deep sight before the creature spoke again.  “Okay, but Let me ask you this.” There was a melancholy tone in it’s voice as the door handle turned slowly.  “Am I really that bad?  Did I really deserve this?”

“I understand boss I do” answered Leyak.  “And no I dont think you deserve it at all but it’s in the contract sir, and we really need to get going.  And think about the lads boss, it’s been a while for them.”

The door swung slowly open on its heavy metal hinges and the creature stood in the doorway.

“How do I look?” he asked running his fingers through his hair.

Leyak smiled as Abraxas looked up from his position on the floor.

“Like the best damned POTUS there’s ever been boss…”












Brimstone Brew – Room 101

This is very much just a beginning…

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. I try to do them in 101 words but sometime not.  .  The prompt was ‘Brimstone Brew’

With the full moon peering cautiously through the dark clouds Cassandra pulled her cloak tight around her shoulders and stirred the small bubbling pot slowly.

“Needs more eye of newt” said Serano stepping from the shadows. 

“And looks a little light on ragwort too” added Evanora as she alighted from her broom with all the grace and experience of a woman of her two hundred years.  “Hubble bubble indeed” she continued reaching into inside her cloak and pulling out a small pouch.  “ I have some if you’re a little short.”

Cassandra sighed and put down the heavy wooden spoon.

“Ladies, it’s only coffee.  There really is no need to be so dramatic.”

Evanora sniffed the brew as she took a seat at the small wooden table.  “Milk, no sugar please.”

“Someone’s in a mood I see” said Serano taking a seat opposite Evanora.

Cassandra flicked her wand and the pot lifted effortlessly into the air, filling there large cups with the steaming dark liquid and a flourish sent the cups floating over to the table and the pot placed itself back over the fire.  Cassandra took a seat and reached for one of the cups  “Help yourself to milk and sugar.”

As Cassandra took the first sip of her drink Evanora looked over at her and then leaned forward, her eyes bulging more than usual and her crooked nose twitching. “Have you done something to your face Cassie, you look different.”

Cassandra shook her head and stared into her cup.

“She has she has” exclaimed Serano leaning over to get a better look.  “Oh my giddy aunt” she continued.  “Where are your nose warts Girl?  By Methuselah’s beard what have you done to yourself?”

Being a good hundred years younger than the others Cassandra was used to them treating her like a child.

“It’s nothing really” she muttered still refusing to look up. 

Evanora pushed her coffee to one side.  “Nothing? Nothing?  My girl, a nose warts are very much part of who she is.  You cannot just magic those things away, they are part of your very fibre. How did you do it?”

Serano nodded in agreement.  “I saw Santa once at an AA meeting after he’d had a shave.   Not unpleasant and he has a rather nice chin with a cute little cleft but left me feeling rather uncomfortable I will tell you.”

Cassandra moved the cup from in front of face and lifted her head. 

“Sweet baby Jesus” Exclimed Evanora.  Serano put her hand over her mouth in shock. 

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad.” Cassandra protested.  “In fact ai think it looks rather nice.  Grenville the warlock who keeps the bar at the Hogs Head said so himself.”

“Oh Evie” said Serano most upset.  “Evie what is going on.  This is most unwitchlike.”

Evanora took a deep breath and stood up slowly from the table. 

“Cassie, this will not do” she said, her voice stern an commanding.  “This will not do at all.  You are a witch.  We are witches.  We have certain standards to maintain and a wartless face is simply not acceptable in this coven.”

Serano nodded again, this time more vigorously, and Cassie’s lip began to tremble as she started to speak.

“I really don’t see what the problem is” Cassie replied, her voice cracking as she spoke.

“The problem is that there are acceptable norms Cassie.  You don’t see Serano hopping on a bus or taking a dog as a familiar do you?”  Evanora didn’t wait for a response before continuing.  “No, she takes her broom when she needs to pop to the shops and has a perfectly acceptable cat like everyone else.  She conforms Cassie.  She is a witch and she behaves like a witch.”

Cassie eyes began to well up and then, quite unexpectedly, she stood and banged her fist on the table.

“No, no that is not fair.  I like how I look and I think I look much better and Grenville agrees.  In fact I think it’s hypocritical for you to insist I keep my warts.”  She shot a glance over at Serano who was still nodding.

Evanora noticed the glance between the two women.  “What was that?  What’s going on her?” she exclaimed.  “Serano?”

Serano stopped nodding and began shaking her head.  “It’s Nothing.  There’s nothing.   I don’t know what she is talking about.”

Hands on hips Cassandra suddenly felt emboldened.

“You think I haven’t seen the way behave when Victus is about?” she snapped.

“What is she talking about?” asked Evanora sharply.

“Let’s just say that she hasn’t been riding side saddle lately” Cassie continued. 

“Is that true Serano?” Evanora asked her nostrils flaring.  “Have you been riding stick?”

Serano blushed and looked away.

“Oh dear Merlin’s ghost, by Satan’s cloven hooves what is going on with you two.  This is most inappropriate and unwitchlike.”

“Oh please” said Serano.  “Don’t act all superior, you’re one of the dark ones remember.  You’re no white witch.  I remember what you were like when you were younger.”

“Really? “ said Cassandra. 

“Oh yes, let’s just say that that her cat wasn’t the only pussy to get up to no good.”  She winked and grinned as Cassie covered her mouth in shock and Evanora turned sharply pulling out her wand.

“Serano, hush your mouth” she shouted, wand raised.

Serano laughed loudly returning to the table “Oh sit yourself down dear, you know you aren’t going to use that thing.”

Evanora stood breathing heavily her face flushed before sitting back down and composing herself.  Cassandra waited a moment longer before taking her place. 

The three witches stared silently into their cups and Cassandra cleared her throat nervously and began to unbutton her tunic.

“Does anyone want to see my new piercing….”



Purple Plasma – Room 101

This is very much just a beginning…

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. I try to do them in 101 words but sometime not.  .  The prompt was ‘Purple Plasma’

Stanislaw rolled the cigarette slowly between his gnarled yellow fingers and stared out across the SSR Lenin’s launch deck.  Attack vessels blazed across the blackness of space and flashes of purple plasma tore through the darkness as a Mark II cutter exploded in an iridescent ball of red and gold just off the starboard side.

He puffed out his cheeks, placed the cigarette behind his ear and tapped the com-patch on the lapel of his faded uniform.  A second cutter slammed into the force field protecting the high hangar doors and exploded without so much as dinting The Lenin.  She was a strong ship, old, but tough as old boots.

“Oscar, it’s Stan.  You got me a ship yet?  The boys are getting taken to pieces out there”

After a momentary pause the com crackled into life.

“Negative Stan, we’re all out.  We have everything out there trying to repel them, nothing ship side.”

Stanislaw walked slowly over to the hangar entrance.  “Okay Oscar copy that.  First ship in is mine though okay?”  He placed the cigarette in his mouth, pulled a small silver lighter from his pocket and lit it.

“Roger that Stan” said Oscar.  “I know you don’t like to watch.”

“Copy that.  Out”

Stanislaw took a deep drag and watched the small attack ships dance between the larger cruisers, picking each other off as the cruisers fired their heavy salvos towards each other.

“What a complete shit storm” he mumbled to himself and took another drag of the cigarette.  

For two years they had dodged the Zentra trying to get back to Earth and now just a week out they had found them.  It was going to be a long day.



Coffin Candy – Room 101

Getting back into it again…let’s see how this goes shall we…

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. I try to do them in 101 words but sometime not.  .  The prompt was ‘Coffin Candy’

“Harold?  Are you there” came a voice through the darkness.

Harold said nothing, the all too familiar shrill tone conjouring up memories he would much rather forget.

“Harold?  Harold?” She continued.  “I know you’re here.  Where are you.”

Harold sighed.  “Hello dear” he said with considerably less gusto than his recently departed significant other might have expected.

“Is that it?” she snapped.  “After all these years that is the best you can muster.  ‘Hello dear’?”

“How are you?” Harold continued. 

“How am I?  Good god man how the dickens do you think I am.  This is all very much a shock let me tell you.”  Her voice was as shrill as a boiling kettle whistle. which reminded him that it had been quite some time since he had enjoyed a nice cup of tea.

Harold sighed again.  He really had been enjoying the peace and quiet very much up until this point and knew he was not going to get even a biscuit never mind a cup of tea.

“Who’s that?” came a third voice.  “Have you got someone with you Harold?”

The best Harold could muster was “Oh shit” as the kettle voiced woman exploded in a fit of rage.

“Who is she?” she bellowed.  “Where is she Harold, get her out here right now.  Come on, where is she hiding.  Put on a bloody light man.”

Harold waited for her to stop shouting before quite calmly explaining that there were no lights and that was Carole from next door.

“Carole?  Carole?” she exploded again.  “Bit familiar don’t you think.  Where is she Harold?  Under the bed.”

“No dear, she’s next door.” Harold explained.  “She’s just a friend.”

“Oh thanks Harold” said Carole sounding rather hurt.  “I thought I was more than that.  That’s just great.”

“Im sorry” Harold replied.  “I thought…” He waited for a moment.

“You thought what Harold?  You thought I wouldn’t find out?  Is that it?”

Harold cleared his throat.  “Carole, this is…was… my wife Julie.”

Carole sniffed.

“Is she crying?” Julie asked, not waiting for a reply.  “You can bloody well cry all you want dear” she said raising her voice and shouting into the darkness.  “I’d remind you that’s my husband thank you very much.  And what exactly do you mean by ‘was’?” she snapped savagely turning her attention back to Harold.

“Well…” Harold said his voice wavering.  Harold remembered with great displeasure that Julie was about as patient as she was pleasant.

Perhaps a joint burial plot hadn’t been the best idea after all…

|Cheeky and Sneaky – Room 101

All hail the great torturer

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. I try to do them in 101 words but sometime not.  .  M’s prompt was ‘Cheeky and Sneaky’.

The great horned god waded ankle  deep through the contorted mass of tortured souls screaming in agony as his cloven hooves bit into their soft pink flesh and dancing flames nibbled on their tender parts.

 “Bring me a paedophile priest “ he roared scooping a particularly rotund fellow from the writhing pile at his feet and tearing him in half.  He swallowed down the top part before tossing the extremities over his shoulder.

 “Not a big fan of legs” he said licking his lips as a couple of imps dragged a most terrified and rather skinny specimen towards him.

 “As requested your most magnificent darkness” the first said bowing as he delivered the cowering man at the feet of the creatures.

 “Young boys eh” he said holding him in his hand and squeezing him slowly.  The man’s eyes bulged and he tried to speak.

 “I am a man of God” he said defiantly.  This was most certainly not the wisest of decisions he had made. 

 “Really?” Said the creature holding him up before his face, eyes black and a mouth red as blood with sharp white teeth glistening.  He roared with laughter.  “I would not doubt it one bit.”

 The two smaller creatures were beckoned over with a long talloned finger as a loud horn signalled above the cacophony of howls and wails. 

“I was thinking some buggery, perhaps with a poker and then how about a nice warm eel bath?  What do you think?”

The creatures exchanged glances. 

 The horned god held out his hand offering the priest to them.  “Is there a problem?” he asked teeth grinding.  “Do you not wish to do my bidding and inflict a delicious and unimaginable revenge on this vile creature? “

 The smaller of the two coughed nervously and elbowed his partner.  “Tell him cheeky, go on.”

 Cheeky cowered and took a deep breath.

 “It’s just that…” He paused.

 Sneaky elbowed him again.  “Just do it” he whispered.

 “Come on, out with it” roared the beast, eyes bulging and tightening his grip on the priest so much so that it emptied it’s bowels quite involuntarily.

 “It’s just that, well, you see Great and Mighty One, the hallowed horn of compliance has blown and union guidelines prevent us from out of contractual hours torture you see.” He exhaled and covered his head expecting a smiting at the very least.

 “Did it?  Are you sure” Said the beast quizzically. 

 “Yes sire” said Sneaky now feeling somewhat emboldened.

 “And you have somewhere to be?”

 “Yes sir?”

 The creature looked a little sad as he placed the priest back amongst the writing mass of agony being slowly roasted at his feet.

 “I just thought maybe you might, you know, want to just finish him off.  Might be fun.”

 The imps exchanged a glance and shuffled uncomfortably.

 “It’s just that it’s a union thing you know.  Not really our call.” Said Cheeky.  “Rules and all that.  We’d love to stay honest we would but…”

 “I see, sure, I suppose yeah no that’s cool really” The god answered.  He paused for a moment.  “Tomorrow maybe?  You doing anything then?”

 Sneaky looked away scratching his head.

 “We er…well its kind of our day off you see.  Mandatory working week rest break.”

 “Oh right yeah cool no problem I get it.”

 “We would have loved to though you know.  What about Sunday?  Were free Sunday right Sneaky?”

 Sneaky shook his head.  “Mephisto” he said coughing into his hand.

 Cheeky stared at his feet. “We kind of have this thing you see.  Its one of the lads deathday.  His big 666.”

 “Oh right sure I see.  Yeah no problem.  Sounds cool.  You guys have a blast.  Maybe I’ll see you next week? “

 “Definitely yes lets make it happen, definitely we will be in touch for sure” said Cheeky as they floated upwards leaving the age old creature stood alone.

 “Why did you agree that?” snapped Sneaky as they flew out of earshot.  “You know we’ve agreed to spend some time with Trump.

Early Morning Mishaps – Room 101


These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. I try to do them in 101 words but sometime not.  .  M’s prompt was ‘Early Morning Mishaps’.

Jay stood ashen faced, his heart pounding in his chest, filled with a deep sense of foreboding.

 “What have you done?” Emm asked shaking her head.  “Jay, dad’s going to be furious.  I mean seriously, he worked really hard on that for you.  He’s going to kill you.”

 “Don’t you think I know that” Jay snapped.  “I was just messing about I didn’t think that would happen obviously.” 

 “When are you going to tell him?”

 “Will you tell him for me?  You know what he’s like.  He will take it better if it comes from you.”

 “What?” Emm asked.  “Jay, you need to tell him and you need to do it soon.  You only have a week left before you need to hand in your school project and there’s no way he can remake all those dinosaurs in seven days.  You’ll need to work on something else…”


Saucy Suspicions – Room 101

You saw the signs right…

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. I try to do them in 101 words but sometime not.  .  M’s prompt was ‘Saucy Suspicions’.

When Ernie came home early he had to park on the street because of the black delivery van hunched on his driveway. 

 “That’s funny” he said to himself as he pushed against the already slightly ajar front door.  “I wasn’t expecting a delivery.”

 He stepped into the house and placed his keys in the bowl on the small side table in the entrance.  He paused realising his wife’s car keys were in there too.  Her car must be in the garage which was odd at this time of day as she would usually be at the tennis club.

 “Helen are you home?” he called out as he noticed the blouse she had been wearing this morning thrown over the arm of the plush leather sofa.  “Well it has been hot today” he said to himself.

 As he walked through the house he noticed more clothes strewn across the floor.  He didn’t recognise the jeans, they looked somewhat larger than his but he must just be mistaken. 

 He picked it up as he went and walked through to the kitchen where he placed it in the washing machine.  Helen must have dropped it on the way to doing laundry he thought.

 Heading back into the hall he stood at the foot of the stairs.  More clothes.  She was such a scruffy pup.  One of the many reasons he loved her so.  “You up there honey?” He called out picking up her bra and panties.  They were the good ones…the ones he bought her for valentines day that she hadn’t worn for him yet. 

It had been hot out she must have been desperate for a shower after tennis perhaps.  He wasn’t sure that those panties were best suited for such physical activities though.

 As he rounded the top of the stairs and stepped onto the landing.  “Babe?” He called out.   There were noises coming from the bedroom. It sounded like she was watching porn.  His heart raced.  He had been wanting to try something like that for some time but she always said that it was immoral and that it would make baby Jesus cry if they did.  Maybe things were going to take a turn for the better in the bedroom.

 Hurriedly he shuffled down the hall unbuttoning his trousers and letting them fall to the floor.  Frantically unbuttoning his shirt he reached the bedroom door.  It was slightly ajar and he could just catch a glimpse of her through the doorway. 

 It was at this moment that his heart sank and he suspected that perhaps all was not as it might seem.  The fact that a strapping great tattooed fellow was currently hanging out of the back of his wife didn’t help much either…


September Sunrise – Room 101

Perhaps the beginning of something. Or the end. Or a really nice middle.

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. I try to do them in 101 words but sometime not.  .  M’s prompt was ‘September Sunrise’.

Stan stared out across the water, dark and cold, his fishing pole nestled between his hands as he waited for sunrise.  It was the best time of day to be outside he thought – the air was still and calm, as if nature herself held her breath at the imminent touch of her golden hued lover.

 He tapped his watch thinking it must have stopped surely and reaching into his pocket he pulled out his phone and double checked the time.  No.  It was right.

 In the distance a shrill siren broke the silence, and somewhere high up on the ridge above him he heard a wolf howl into the darkness, and then another and another, their cacophony echoing down the valley.

 He placed the pole at his feet looking out into the darkness, stars still pinpricks in the night sky, and watched as the surface of the lake first rippled and then burst into a silver writhing froth as fish thrashed and gulped the still cold dawn air.  And he waited.

 At his feet insects of all descriptions scuttled frantically over his boots and plump worms twisted and spiralled their way to the surface reaching for the sky in a desperate dance.  And still he waited for the sunrise.

 Reaching again for his phone, the glow of the scream cutting through the darkness, he was forced to scuttle for cover as a murder of crows swooped across the lake and then spiralled and screeching, crashed into a the trees on the hill behind him. 

 Pulse racing he stabbed at the numbers on the phone, but without a signal the incessant beep faded into the darkness.  He felt a cold deep within, icy fingers wrapping around him as the world about him writhed and splashed and crashed and howled.    He felt loss, desperation and so terribly alone as he looked to the horizon waiting for the golden embers.

 And still he waited…


A Touch of perfect – Room 101

Perhaps the beginning of something.

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. I try to do them in 101 words.  M’s prompt was ‘A Touch of Perfect’.

Every day Cal would wake and think that today would be his last.  Today, he was right.

With his engines offline he tumbled through space at 30000 miles an hour towards his inevitable destination.  He stabbed at the lifeless console hoping to gain control of the ship but it remained unresponsive save for the blink of the life support system.

Peering out of the starboard portal the moon swung slowly and ominously into sight, and just beyond her horizon he saw the Earth he’d left behind and would now never return to.

He then smiled and sat back in his chair. waiting…




Icy Morn – Room 101

Perhaps the beginning of something.

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. Originally they were 101 words but this month I will allow myself more.  .   M’s prompt  was ‘ICY MORN’


 It was cold the day it all ended.  Unseasonably so according to the weathermen.  The temperature had dropped overnight and a heavy frost made the grass crunch beneath Martin’s slippers as he shuffled out onto the common in front of the flat.

 As neighbours gathered around him he watched open mouthed as the sky was set aflame in a firestorm of crimson, yellow and orange.

 Darryl from upstairs said he’d heard there was a meteor heading for earth that the government had been covering up for months.  Others simply wept.  Mrs Melling from number 2 said it was divine retribution for something or other.  Most likely something to do with buggery.  For a woman who went to church each week she did often seem overly mindful of the subject and would insist it was the root of most of the problems in society.

 He’d stopped listening by the time she got round to insisting that Jesus was no fan of bottom shenanigans because at that point a rather large space ship seemed to be descending through the clouds towards them…


Wizards and Wormholes – Room 101

Perhaps the beginning of something.

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. Originally they were 101 words but this month I will allow myself more.  .   M’s prompt  was ‘Wizards and wormholes


Farzlebarg took off his hat, scratched his head and ran a ponderous hand through his long white beard. 

“Well, well, what the devil is that I wonder?” He said to himself, head tilted to one side.

 “It’s a wormhole” came a very matter-of-fact reply.

 Farzlebarg turned slowly to where his apprentice stood looking rather proud of himself.

 “Have you ever heard of a rhetorical question boy?” The old wizard snapped.

 Farbidoo nodded vigorously “A rhetorical question is a figure of speech in the form of a question that is…”

 “Oh do shush boy, please.  You really must work on your situational context.”  

 The boy lowered his head and quietened his voice “…asked to make a point rather than to elicit an answer.

 By this point the wizard had however stopped listening and had again turned his attention to the slowly rotating purple mass with the dark spinning centre that had taken up the majority of his already quite small kitchen.

 “Curious indeed” he mused as he tossed a tea cup towards it and watched it disappear with a noise not wholly dissimilar to that of a wellington boot being pulled from the mud.

 “I wonder where it came from” Farbidoo said peering around the old man.

 “Do you really?” Farzlebarg asked.  Whilst the boy was keen as mustard when it came to his studies he lacked a certain curiosity and bravery when it came to real world application.

 “Well yes, there is a worm hole in the kitchen so I would most certainly want to know where it came from.”

 Farzlebarg threw the matching saucer after the cup.  There was little point of a saucer without a cup, and it disappeared with the same noise mud squelching noise.

 “The question is not where it comes from boy, as interesting as that might be.  The question you ought to be asking yourself is this…” He paused momentarily for dramatic effect.  He did so enjoy a little tension in his delivery.  The mark of a fine orator most certainly.

 Farbidoo strained hanging on the old wizard’s every word.

 “The question you ought to ask yourself boy…”


 The old man grabbed his arm.

 “The question you should ask yourself, because it is far more interesting and holds the potential for much greater adventure, is where does it lead…”


Frosted Petals – Room 101

Back to the old 101 words for this one…

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. Originally they were 101 words but this month I will allow myself more.  That said this one is 101 words.   M’s prompt  was ‘Frosted petals.”


Serena pulled the heavy pelts close around her ears as she stared out across the frozen landscape and towards the feint reminder of their folly.  The pale light trickled across the landscape once bathed so bright and for one final time she watched shadows lengthen and then fade to nothing.

The thermal sources were all dead so this would be their last cycle.  She knew that when they chose to remain their fates were sealed, and when the signals stopped as the fleet passed Mars they were truly alone. 

In the dark they would die with Earth, and it felt right.


Blue Skies and Blossoms – Room 101

I really don’t think I should publish this but meh…I wrote it

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. Originally they were 101 words but this month I will allow myself more. M’s prompt  was ‘Blue skies and blossoms.”

This has taken days as I have been busy and keep getting interrupted but I cant just delete it.  The idea was there but execution is awful.  The flow just wasn’t there and it is humourless but if I don’t publish it I cannot move on.  Don’t bother really…


Dar folded his arms defiantly and puffed out his chest.  Whilst his intention was to appear intimidating and confident it actually made him look most awkward and the appearance of perhaps suffering from extreme wind and somewhat in need of a quiet room in which to make himself considerably more comfortable.

 “All I am saying” he protested “is that we need to maybe give them one more chance because I am certain that there is more to them than we have so far uncovered.”

 Whilst Zenda was half his size she was twice as smart and they both knew it.  Seldom did he win an argument with her and he already knew he was likely to lose this one too but he didn’t like to go down without a fight.

 She placed a hand on his forearm and flashed him a smile that suggested she would happily toss the creature from the airlock right now and take great pleasure in doing so.

 “Dar, the test results support my position there really isn’t anything to discuss.  They’re finished.”

 “Bit look at everything they’ve achieved, how far they’ve come.”

 She raised an eyebrow and folded her arms mirroring his defiance.

 “In nearly four thousand years they have hardly progressed beyond the savagery of their ancestors please, enlighten me.”

 This is my chance he thought to himself.

 “Have you heard their music?  Seen their art?  I know you have and you must admit that some of it is quite something to behold.”  He reached for a panel below a small display to the side of where they stood.  “Listen to this, ‘Chopin’.  Truly marvellous stuff.”  He closed his eyes as Nocturn in E-flat major flooded the deck.

 Her lips tightened as the chords soared

 “Don’t make me play ‘Don’t worry, be happy’ Dar, you know I will.

 He mumbled a response but she had already stopped listening to him.

 “I do not deny that they are creatively quite something Dar but that is not the only measure of who they are.  Look into their hearts, their history, their deeds and it shows them to be wholly unsuitable for advancement.”

 She motioned to the specimen laid out on the table before them.  A portly fellow with tousled brown hair and red cheeks which suggested a love for hard liquor. 

 “Really” she continued.  “Just look at this one Dar, hardly an indication of a civilisation ready to become part of a greater galactic awareness now is he.”

 “Hello, excuse me I am here you know.  I can hear you” the portly red faced fellow shouted straining at whatever invisible bonds held him to the table.

 Dar and Zenda paid him absolutely no attention at all.

 The music picked up pace as she walked over to where he lay and she prodded him with a long scaly finger.. 

 “Dar, face it, they’re a pretty grubby lot when it comes down to it.”

 “Right, hello” the man shouted again.  Again they ignored him.  “Can you get me a manager, I need to speak to someone in authority if you’re not going to listen to me.”

 Dar sighed and unfolded his arms as Pachelbel’s Canon in D major began to play.

 “I just think we should give them a chance Zen, this one’s pretty rubbish I admit but there are some good ones.” 

 He snarled as the man on the table began to speak again and then went silent.

 “Like their leaders?” She asked, a wry smile upon her face.

 Dar paused for a moment.  “Maybe not them, but some of the others.”

 “Okay so maybe like the religious leaders?”

 He knew he was losing but wasn’t ready to give up.

 “You’re probably right you know” interrupted the red faced man.  “We’re a pretty sorry bunch come to think about it.”

 “Will you shut up” Dar barked “I’m trying to save you from oblivion here and you really aren’t helping.”

 Dar took a deep breath and gave it one last shot. “What about all the other great things they have achieved?  Law, society, scientific advancement. They could make a huge impact if we let them join us.  And god how gorgeous a planet.  Blue skies and blossoms the like of which we seldom see.”

 “War, hunger, genocide and the selfish pursuit of gain Dar.  They aren’t ready for it and they never will be.  They’re flawed.  I give you it’s a beautiful place but we our orders are pretty clear.”

 “She’s right you know” the specimen interrupted.  “As much as I hate to admit it she really is.  Were pretty useless.”

 “Really?” Dar snapped.  “Really?”

 Zenda smiled.  “Just do it Dar, let’s just finish up and head home.  I’ll issue the report and we can move onto the next job.”

 Dar looked over at the table.  The creature attempted to shrug as best as the restraints would allow.

 Dar reached for the console and initiated the destruction sequence.

 “Fine” he said leaving the room.  “But I’m keeping the music collection.”



Nature’s Reflection – Room 101

Who knows what darkness lies within the hearts of men.

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. Originally they were 101 words but this month I will allow myself more. M’s prompt  was ‘Nature’s Reflection’

Darkness scratched and clawed deep within screaming to be released and demanding revenge.  Someone needed to pay and with fists clenched he lashed out wildly, desperate to set free the rage and pain and inflict it on someone else. 

 Flesh tore and bone splintered as his fists connected, his hands bloodied and knuckles bare and dripping with blood as dark as his heart now felt. 

 “I want you to die” he muttered to himself and tasting the blood from where he had bitten through his lip.   It was warm in his mouth.  It felt good to bleed. 

 He lashed out again, his fists balled and this time when he connected he felt the bones in his hand snap and splinter.  The pain shot through him like fire and it felt good.  It felt right.  Yes, someone did have to pay, and maybe it was him.  It wasn’t right what happened to that young boy, no one should have to endure that.  Someone was to blame, someone needed to be punished.

 The throbbing in his head reached a crescendo and screaming he bent double, closing his eyes and covering his ears to block out the laughter that filled his senses.  Tears rolled down his cheeks and his heart pounded in his chest.

 Rising up he roared a defiant “no” and swung again, this time missing wildly and stumbling forwards.  Instinctively he reached for the edge of the sink to steady himself and there he stood, until his breathing calmed, and slowly he raised his head to look at himself in the cracked and bloodied mirror once more. 


Amethyst Rain – Room 101

Darkest night and brightest days

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. Originally they were 101 words but this month I will allow myself more. M’s prompt  was ‘Amethyst Tears’

When the first stars went out no one noticed at first.  There are after all nearly ten thousand visible in the night sky.  Or at least there were.  It wasn’t long though before people realised and when it started to be reported, well you can imagine how everything went all to hell.

 Many proclaimed it was the end of days and the sign of the second coming of one fellow or another, and most were pretty clear on the matter that everyone was going to be judged – and most likely pretty harshly, and obviously not them.  Not many of them lasted long though because when all you can do day to day is watch the universe being slowly snuffed it will do pretty terrible things to you.

 Some hardier souls did continue to rejoice in what they believed was a certain future for them and the other believers but that slow creeping fear is a terrible thing, and eventually even the most hardy failed the test of faith and succumbed to the madness.  A mind is a fragile thing it seems and it takes a lot less to break it than you might think.     

 Those of a more pragmatic nature did better than most, simply spending the nights watching the sky go out and the days mindful of whatever time they had left which turned out to not be long at all.

 In those final hours, as the inky black of the darkest night descended, the sky rained amethyst tears and those that remained looked to the skies for a final time in wonder as everything came to an end.  It all happened pretty quickly and wasn’t painful at all and was a sight to behold indeed.  I think it was a fitting end to what hadn’t been a particular successful experiment.

 Maybe next time round I’ll try something else but for now, I think I’m just going to enjoy the peace and quiet.