Tag: flash fiction

ROUND UP -Afterwards Writing Prompt #4 – – “TO LIVE AND DIE”

Some cool stuff for you to go read

Got some treats for you this week in response to the weekly prompt. Go give them a read, you never know when you’re going to dicsover someone new!

Michelle is carrying on here story here. Wonder how far she will take it?

The fantastic AP Christopher, one of my favourite bloggers, gives us this great piece,

Mansionic Perspective put this together for their first response to the prompts. Not someone I know but looking forward to checking out their stuff.

Lexikonical is back for more fabulous stuff which you should go check out here

Little Charmer couldn’t resist the lure for another crack at it with here inimitable style.

And then there was me

…


	


	





	

		
		
Afterwards Writing Prompt #5 – Monday 5th of February – “>>>CONNEXION>>>”
	


				

				
>>>Start Transmission…>>>

			

			
	
	

		
	

		

Over the many years Ive been dabbling on here I have always enjoyed prompts. Quite often I like to create lists for myself, and I always wnjoy them even more when I have an image or two to stir my writing loins.





So I figured I might share some of mine. Use it if you want. or don’t. 





Theres no limit to how long or short it should be, just see where it takes you. It could be a short story, a poem, or just whatever takes your fancy.





If you send a pingback or a link to your piece in the comments  I will gather all of the outputs together at the end of the week, so for this one the closing date will be Sunday the 4th of February.





If there is interest or people actually get into it I might compile the best one from each week and pop them into a compilation of sorts and pop it on Amazon at the end of the year (accredited of course). But let’s see how it goes first eh…





So this week your prompt is ‘>>>CONNEXION>>>’, and these are a few pics to go with it.





Oh, and you can do what you want with the miages. They are all AI generated so no issues with copyright.








































	


	





	

		
		
TO LIVE AND DIE
	


				

				
it all comes to this…

			

			
	
	

		
	

		






So this week tje prompt was “To Live and Die” and there were a few pics to go with it.





This is my effort 





——————-





The first thought that went through Terence’s mind as he opened his eyes was “What a lovely light,”  This thought was soon followed by a second which considered why the devil he might be lying on the floor, and a third one hot on the heels of the second which pondered where exactly he might be.





He attempted to move but nothing happened.  His eyes seemed to be working just fine but beyond that nothing else did what it was meant to. Not one thing.





“Well this is just no good,” he said to himself, “this simply will not do at all.”





He strained again but still nothing.





For a while he lay there looking up at the light.  “It really is quite pretty,” he thought, “I should get one like that for the hall at home.”





In an instant something about the word home triggered an explosion of memories and emotions inside of him.  He was suddenly overwhelmed by a lifetime of experiences flashing before his eyes, and it all started with her.  





She was present in almost every thought and every memory.  She seemed to have been there from the very beginning but for some reason he could not recall her name.  He could feel her touch and he could hear her voice , and she was all at once a stranger and so very familiar.





There were children too, and grand children.  Birthdays, holidays, Christmas and so so much love and laughter.  There was a little house by the sea, and a dog that always barked when the gate creaked.  Memory after memory washed over him as he lay there looking at the ceiling, and as they flashed by she became older, yet no less beautiful.





In between the laughter there were tears, and the cold darkness of solitude and yet always the laughter and the love would return and each time he would see her smiling face.  A great sadness overcame him as he saw her laid to rest, her coffin laid into the ground on a cold grey day.  Terence lay quite still and enjoyed the intensity of each moment until, at last, he remembered how he got here, where he was and why he was looking at the ceiling.





And then there was nothing.





The Engineer crouched over Terence and ran a scanner across his forehead.  He spoke into a small receiver embedded in his grey coverall collar.





“Base 9, this is Henderson, I have found the synth and can confirm that shut down has completed.”





“And what is his Status?” came a response.





Henderson double checked the dial.  “I can confirm that the unit has reached end of life cycle and his memories have successfully downloaded to central.”





“Good work Henderson” came the response, “We will format the content and pass it onto the family, seems the owner’s kids were pretty fond of the unit and have asked for the memories.””Copy that.”











	


	





	

		
		
Roundup -AWP #3 – “Old gods”
	


	
	
	

		
	

		

Thee were this weeks fabulous responses





Little Charmer made her glorious first appearance with some poetry





Michelle carried on her story here





Oh and I did this one…










So this week your prompt was ‘Old gods’, and these are a few pics to go with it.































Oh, and you can do what you want with the miages. They are all AI generated so no issues with copyright.

	


	





	

		
		
Afterwards Writing Prompt #4 – Monday 29th of January – “TO LIVE AND DIE”
	


				

				
Last one for January

			

			
	
	

		
	

		

Over the many years Ive been dabbling on here I have always enjoyed prompts. Quite often I like to create lists for myself, and I always wnjoy them even more when I have an image or two to stir my writing loins.





So I figured I might share some of mine. Use it if you want. or don’t. 





Theres no limit to how long or short it should be, just see where it takes you. It could be a short story, a poem, or just whatever takes your fancy.





If you send a pingback or a link to your piece in the comments  I will gather all of the outputs together at the end of the week, so for this one the closing date will be Sunday the 4th of February.





If there is interest or people actually get into it I might compile the best one from each week and pop them into a compilation of sorts and pop it on Amazon at the end of the year (accredited of course). But let’s see how it goes first eh…





So this week your prompt is ‘TO LIVE AND DIE’, and these are a few pics to go with it.





Oh, and you can do what you want with the miages. They are all AI generated so no issues with copyright.




































	


	





	

		
		
Old gods
	


				

				
A quickie kinda thing

			

			
	
	

		
	

		

So this week the prompt is ‘Old gods’, and my short effort is below…





_________________










 





We thought we would live forever, that things would always be this way, that they would always believe and that would be enough. 





We strode the world, wielding such power and how they worshipped us. It was never going to end.





Oh how wrong we were.





 Those before us had warned us, as we crushed them, consigning them to myth. We were new and reckless, but you know how things are when you’re young. You think you know better. That isn’t to say we didn’t have a great time, we did. But oh it was over quicker than we could believe. You must have read the stories and seen the idols. We did that. We did all of that. We did everything..





Did you see that business with the minotaur? Yes? Well that was one of mine. How brilliant was that.










“You can’t mix a bull and a man,” they said. “That’s messed up.” They laughed, said it was silly and unnecessary, and that I should have some wine, try the grapes, they were apparently really good.





Well I showed them didn’t I.





And don’t get me started on me and Aphrodite. Those new boys thought they were better than us, that they weren’t interested in such temptations, but that’s what the boys who don’t get invited to the cool orgies always say isn’t it. 





Well screw them, their time will come, and when it does they still won’t have been to any great parties or wild orgies and they will be left with…with…





What exactly will they be left with? I don’t think they’ve done a very good job. It all looks pretty messed up from where I’m sitting. And you know what…shall I tell you?





The orderly reached over and pulled a blanket across the knees of the old man. He tucked it in tight around his knees and wheeled the chair towards the small table for two in front of the wide window. The rain fell heavily from dark grey skies and lightning lit up the night in the distance.





“Would you like some pudding?” the orderly asked. “Then we’ll get you to bed shall we Mr Z.”






	


	





	

		
		
Afterwards Writing Prompt #2 Roundup – “Alchemy”
	


	
	
	

		
	

		

The prompt was ALCHEMY, he pics are below and these were the responses. A good start I think and it got a couple of folk going so that is a result in my book.




















Michelle gave us this, continuing what she started last week










LexiKonical smashed it again…










I did this 










 






























	


	





	

		
		
Alchemy
	


	
	
	

		
	

		

This is the link to the prompt, and the inspirational pics can be seen belpw. And this is my effort. Bit short as I have been sick all week but it is something, right?





























He always promised that one day we’d leave, that things would be different and we would escape to a place where we could be together always. I smiled everytime he told me this, deep down he was a good man. A dreamer perhaps, but that was part of his charm, you know.





I remember when we were young, how we would lie outside the house in the long grass and look up at the sky. He would point and tell me all about the things he had read in his books. His enthusiasm was infectious, and you couldn’t help but believe him, because he  obviously believed it himself.





“Out there, way out there,” he would say, “out there is where things will be different. Ive seen things.”





I would ask him what he had seen, but he would just smile and tell me I wouldn’t believe him, but I just needed to trust him.





And I should have.





But time does things to people, and promises and dreams fade eventually, and all that is left is reality.





But he never stopped believeing, even when we drifted apart. I would see him time to time and he would tell me that things would be different soon, and looking into his dark green eyes I almost believed him again. 





But then the earth would shake, and the snow would fall, and once more things were just as they had always been…






	


	





	

		
		
Afterwards Writing Prompt #3 – Monday 22nd of January – “Old gods”
	


				

				
Week 3…go go go

			

			
	
	

		
	

		

Over the many years Ive been dabbling on here I have always enjoyed prompts. Quite often I like to create lists for myself, and I always wnjoy them even more when I have an image or two to stir my writing loins.





So I figured I might share some of mine. Use it if you want. or don’t. 





Theres no limit to how long or short it should be, just see where it takes you. It could be a short story, a poem, or just whatever takes your fancy.





If you send a pingback or a link to your piece in the comments  I will gather all of the outputs together at the end of the week, so for this one the closing date will be Sunday the 28th of January. 





If there is interest or people actually get into it I might compile the best one from each week and pop them into a compilation of sorts and pop it on Amazon at the end of the year (accredited of course). But let’s see how it goes first eh…





So this week your prompt is ‘Old gods’, and these are a few pics to go with it.


































Oh, and you can do what you want with the miages. They are all AI generated so no issues with copyright.





















	


	





	

		
		
Afterwards Writing Prompt #2 – Monday 15th of January – “ALCHEMY”
	


				

				
Another writing prompt for your pleasure

			

			
	
	

		
	

		

Over the many years Ive been dabbling on here I have always enjoyed prompts. Quite often I like to create lists for myself, and I always wnjoy them even more when I have an image or two to stir my writing loins.





So I figured I might share some of mine. Use it if you want. or don’t. 





Theres no limit to how long or short it should be, just see where it takes you. It could be a short story, a poem, or just whatever takes your fancy.





If you send a pingback or a link to your piece in the comments  I will gather all of the outputs together at the end of the week, so for this one the closing date will be Sunday the 22ndof January. 





If there is interest or people actually get into it I might compile the best one from each week and pop them into a compilation of sorts and pop it on Amazon at the end of the year (accredited of course). But let’s see how it goes first eh…





So this week your prompt is ‘ALCHEMY’, and these are a few pics to go with it.
























Oh, and you can do what you want with the miages. They are all AI generated so no issues with copyright.
















	


	





	

		
		
Darla
	


				

				
Flash fiction kinda stuff…

			

			
	
	

		
	

		

This is in response to my own prompt. The pics below were the inspiration and the prompt title was “Darla”





Prompt Here!
























—————————





 





Darla was born in that timeless perineum of vague uncertainty and half eaten boxes of chocolates that occupies the days between Christmas eve and New years day. A place where time marches to the unfathomable beat of a dozen drunken drummers all attempting to play synchronised opening beats to Phil Collins’ ‘In the air tonight’ whilst being chased by killer clowns demanding they hurry up and get to the good bit.





As a large proportion of the world lurched between one bout of searing indigestion to the next, Darla came screaming into the world, perfectly pink and with a dark shock of hair that her mother claimed was surely from the gods, as she herself was blonde. The midwife’s suggestions that it was surely on the father’s side were dismissed out of hand as Darla’s mother insisted to the contrary as there was the small matter of an unwavering assertion that she had never slept with anyone to allow her to conceive. But who is going to listen to a teen mother with a tendency towards tie dye and tarot? No one, that is how many. Precisely no one at all.





And it was with that unwavering belief in her divine conception that Darla grew up. It did not make for easy friendships, whether she professed her beliefs from the rood tops or whispered it in darker corners was irrelevant, it simply followed her without the need for any effort on her part. As they bobbed along on the ebb and flow of life their past was impossible to completely leave behind, regardless of which small town they were soon packing up from or washing ashore on.





And it was in one of those small towns, which shall remain nameless as it is of interest to only for those flotsam and jetsam of humanity who found themselves floundered there, that Darla found herself when the end came. Or perhaps, when the end came for her.





In those final moments, most things burned and many other things collapsed. A third lot of things exploded into a sparkling cascade of death whilst everything not in categories one, two or three tended to whimper into oblivion with scant resistance. Had it not been so terrifying and cataclysmic it might have even been beautiful.





Darla took a deep breath and pulled her satchel across her shoulder. The skies crackled and spat like embers whipped by the wind, and she thought about her mother, and the stories of how she came from the gods. It had all been too much for mum, and she wouldn’t miss this place or these people.





It was time to leave, they would be here for her soon.





Dad was on his way…

	


	





	

		
		
Last night – 101 word challenge
	


				

				
A 101 word post challenge

			

			
	
	

		
	

		


“So this is it then?” Clarke asked.


“Yes” the voice replied, “this time tomorrow it’ll all be over.”


“For everyone?”


“Everybody Clarke, this is how it ends, I told you that.”


“After all we’ve achieved though?”


The voice paused. “I think perhaps you overestimate man’s achievements.”


“If you ask me it’s a real waste,” Clarke said pointing to the ribbon of fire that filled the sky before him. “Just look at that sunset.”


“That’s the sun about to engulf the planet Clarke” the voice said quite calmly.


“Oh yeah, right,” Clarke replied.


“Now go home and say goodbye,” the voice said.

	


	





	

		
		
Stars – Room 101
	


				

				
quickie for u

			

			
	
	

		
	

		
101 words.  Ish…




“You smell like strawberries,” Carl said smiling, running his hand through her hair.


Helen’s heart raced being so close to him, lying in the grass, head on his chest.  They’d only been together for a few months but she’d never felt like this before.


He raised a hand and pointed to a cluster of stars.  “See there, straight up from that tree, the three stars in a line? That’s Orion’s Belt.”


“Where did you learn about that?” she asked, sighing.


“My dad used to take us out camping as kids, he loved the stars.” He said wrapping his arms around her.


____________________________


I know, no twist or anything macabre or weird or twisted or offensive.  I’m half way through this challenge I think and thought I would make the lack of a twist the twist.  I could have had him be an alien, or murder her or have a satellite fall on them or worse but some days, it’s just nice to be nice 😊

	


	





	

		
		
Jupiter Glow  – 101 words
	


				

				
Jupiter…you beauty

			

			
	
	

		
	

		
101 words.  Sometimes a few more. Sometimes a start, or an end, or a middle…




 No matter how hard they try they can never prepare you for the loneliness of space.  The fellows in the white coats test you and explore the extent to which your mind can be pushed. but they really have no idea what true isolation will do to you.  

 You try to retain a degree of positivity but there comes a point when you lose all hope, and for me that point was when I flashed past Mars with my pod still accelerating.  Mars was my last hope you see, my salvation.  If anyone could have survived the Orion onslaught it was those tough bastards on the red planet, but with my emergency beacon out and navigation systems shot I simply sailed by into the inky black of space.  

 I doubt it mattered though because there were no signs of life on my scanners.  In fact, there had been no sign in any quadrant since I jettisoned at the battle of Ceres Outpost.  Whilst I had enough supplies to keep me going for a few months – assuming the hydro-recycle unit on my suit keeps functioning – I doubt that I will make it through the asteroid belt to see the glow of Jupiter.

 It’s a shame really, because my god she is a sight to behold…

	


	





	

		
		
Six Sentence Story Prompt – Console
	


				

				
6 Words to paint a picture…

			

			
	
	

		
	

		

The prompt was: CONSOLE







Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!







________________________________





Tyrell punched the eject button on the console, lights blinking frantically and the earth coming up fast. 





Nothing. 





Breathing heavily he punched it again, the suffocating force of his descent pushing him back into the seat.





Still nothing.





“Fuck,” he said,  darkness creeping in at the periphery of his sight, blotting out the last of the stars in the inky black above. 





“I’ll see you soon Katie, ” he whispered, “I’m coming home…”





















	


	





	

		
		
Waiting…101 word challenge
	


				

				
101 words to try create a wee something…

			

			
	
	

		
	

		
101 words.  Sometimes a beginning, sometimes an end.  Or even a frustratingly pointless middle.




Night fell, the full moon streamed through the slits in the ragged curtains.  Jessica pulled the blankets over her face and waited.  Adrenaline coursed through her, fear gripping her tight as she picked out cautious footsteps crunching through the coarse gravel outside her window.


“She’s inside,” she heard Monsignor whisper.


“We need to hurry,” came a reply.  It was her father.


Floorboards creaked as she watched the moonlight crawl slowly up the bed towards her.  Her heartbeat slowed, her eyes narrowed and she lowered the blanket, smiling.


“On three,” came her father’s voice outside the door.


Jessica was ready in two…

	


	





	

		
		
99 Word Story – Feather
	


				

				
Gabe gasped loudly, Stella tracing the duster from neck to unbuttoned jeans…

			

			
	
	

		
	

		



July 4: Story Challenge in 99-words







Written in response to the ‘Feathers’ prompt. 99 words, no more, no less.










Gabe gasped loudly, Stella tracing the duster from neck to unbuttoned jeans.





“Quiet,“ she whispered, fingering his lip. “You’ve been a dirty boy. You need cleaning.”





Gabe nodded obediently. “Yes, Ive been so dirty.”





Desire coursed through them. Eyes locked. They burst into fits of laughter.





“Kiss your mother with that mouth?“ Gabe joked.





A feint but familiar child’s cry sounded from next door.





“Oh well. Looks like were sharing the bed love,” said Stella, kissing Gabe tenderly.





“Ill take the spare room,“ said Gabe smiling.





Stella tossed him the feather duster. “Take that, the corners need doing.“

	


	





	

		
		
Prompts – Foolish
	


				

				
Just a few words with no real reason

			

			
	
	

		
	

		

Going to try do prompts this month. Kind of stream of consciousness stuff as I don’t have time for all that planning or editing lark. Am aiming for about 1000 words a day. Let’s see how it goes. They may be dross, but sometimes it is just fun to write and see what comes out without too much thinking…





First up is Fandango’s One Word Challenge.. The inspirational word was ‘Foolish’.





Ok so I cant find his post now.










Go see his site instead. Its pretty cool and full of loads of stuff.





https://fivedotoh.com/





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Dawn crept slowly across the horizon, silver slivers of light devoured the darkness as the sun fought to escape the prison of the thick clouds that hung low in the sky. The incessant crash of waves on the shale beach reminded Alyssa of the endless barbs in his words that tore and pulled at the threads of her sanity for as long as she could remember.   





Certainly nothing seemed to exist before him, with his sweet charms and promises of happy ever afters. Nothing ever mattered since that moment when she walked away from all she had known and gave herself to the thought of those tomorrow’s so full of love and life.





“If you love me, “ she could still hear him saying. And she did, God how she loved him.





“Always and forever,” she would say, even when her mouth was filled with the sting of metallic and the bruises turned yellow beneath the long sleeves and high necked blouses.





Standing here now, the waves lapping at her feet, rounded pebbles rolled back into the waves as the sea retreated to safety around her.





The wind was cold as it danced around her bare legs, tugging at her long dark hair as it cascaded down across her shoulders, and was then suddenly whipped around her face as the wind gusted in from across the bay.





High above a single gull circled, and she swore that she heard him in the waves calling her to come to him. Alyssa looked back up the beach as the pale morning light played off the high cliffs behind her, and she watched as her clothes were tossed up and blown into the thick gorse that lined the edge of the beach





“It hurts, “ she heard him say, “deep inside, it hurts so much.”





Alysssa clutched her stomach, feeling his pain, a smile breaking out across her lips.





“You did this, “ he shouted as the wind gusted, white horses topping the waves as they crashed onto the shore and pulled at her legs.





She could taste it on her lips, and his lips on hers, both bitter and deadly





This was his place, his refuge, his evermore, and now only the rage of the storm remained where once he lived so violently.











	


	





	

		
		
Over and out
	


				

				
a few random words

			

			
	
	

		
	

		
just waffly bits I’ve been scribbling…




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…

	


	





	

		
		
Shorts – Tea and Anxiety
	


				

				
A while back i sat down to force myself to write 500 words a night. These are some of those word-salads. This was inspired by a piece of art I bought which Ill post about next…

			

			
	
	

		
	

		

Having slowed somewhat in my writing, a while back(September 2022) I sat down to force myself to write 500 words a night. These are some of those word-salads. Unedited, raw, and just done for the hell of it…What concerns me most about this one is that I have no recollection of writing it. How curious.










Tea and Anxiety





He sits and watches, patiently, the clink of cup on saucer breaking the silence. Hands fold in his lap as he sets aside the tea and a crooked smile creeps across his snarling lips. He wishes nothing but ill intent, that creeping gloom that overwhelms and petrifies as the Sunday clock marches on to bed time. And bed time, as we know, is the promise of tomorrow and all it holds.





“I don’t want to go,“ the little girl tells her mother, “I don’t like it one bit. They are all horrible to me, especially the boys. The one with the round face pulls my hair when the teacher isn’t looking.”





The mother caresses the girls blonde curls and pulls the blanket up tight around her chin.





“You must ignore them, Cassie,” she insists, “These things pass like all things eventually. When I was a little girl it was just the same and it will get better.”





“Nothing passes,” the creature whispered into the darkness, “nothing passes, no not ever, no never.” He takes up the tea once more and sips from the darkness of the corner of the room, his pale eyes never leaving her.





Cassie breathed deep and turned into the pillow.  It was cold and crisp.





“Nothing passes,” Cassie whispered as her mother stroked her face gently. “You know that, right?”





Cassies mother paused, feeling a cold breeze across her back, and she turned to check that the window had been properly closed.





“That’s not true Cassie,” she said, fiddling with the latch and checking that it was fastened tight. Looking out into the garden she could see flakes of snow starting to drift slowly downwards, caught in the pale light that hung over the back porch.





“It’s going to be…” Cassie’s mother’s voice trailed off as she became distracted by the night beyond the window, the inky black of winter hanging like a pall over the houses that stretched into the distance. Her mind drifted and she watched small plumes of white smoke snake into the windless sky.





“They don’t like you Cassie,” the creature whispered once more, a lyrical lilt in its voice, eyes wild as it climbed slowly up onto the small wooden dresser that sat against the far wall of the room.  It stared directly at her as she lay under her blanket.





“Tomorrow is waiting for you,” it continued, head tilting to one side as it watched the older one pull the curtains closed and walk back over to where the child lay in the bed.





“They don’t like me, mummy,” Cassie said meekly, “please can I stay home tomorrow? My tummy hurts”





“Sleep well,” said Cassie’s mother, placing a kiss on her head. “It will be better in the morning. I promise. And your tummy will be just fine”





“Promises, promises,” hissed the creature into the darkness, it took another sip of tea, eyes bright and ferocious.





“You always promise that,“ said Cassie as she turned into her pillow. “But it never changes.”





The door closed and darkness consumed all. Cassie lay quite still as the creature sat on the dresser and watched her, waiting for her to fall asleep as he whispered indistinguishably into the darkness. Morning would come soon enough, but until then, there was tea to be finished…

	


	





	

		
		
Shorts – Shuffle, loop, repeat
	


				

				
A while back i sat down to force myself to write 500 words a night. These are some of those word-salads

			

			
	
	

		
	

		

Having slowed somewhat in my writing, a while back(September 2022) I sat down to force myself to write 500 words a night. These are some of those word-salads. Unedited, raw, and just done for the hell of it…What concerns me most about this one is that I have no recollection of writing it. How curious.










Headlights cut through the star specked darkness as Clarissa feathered the breaks of the old pick up nervously, steepling mountain sides to one side and a seemingly bottomless drop to the other. Somewhere in the distance, beyond the lights that flickered at the end of the valley  she could see the moon reflecting off of the ocean as it stretched beyond the small white houses, and out past the small boats that bobbed quietly in the bay. It was a road she felt she had driven so many times before she’d left, but it made her nervous still. Maybe it was the thought of returning home after all these years, or maybe it was just the road. She tried not to think about either.





Tyres squealed as she rounded the tight corners, the scent of the sea already thick in the air and memories of so many summers coming flooding back as she wound down the window to feel the cool night air on her skin. She reached for the battered Bakelite dial on the radio and watched it scroll right to left, the crackle and hiss giving way to a feint music that ebbed and flowed like the tides as she moved in and out of the shadow of the mountain side and wound her way down towards the town.





A battered road sign, pockmarked and faded, told her that it was just three miles to the place she had once called home, the place where she had grown up, and the place she had vowed never to return to. Those brash aspirations of youth now as distant as the life she had left behind.





The radio burst into life once more and it caused her to start, knuckles white as she gripped the old leather steering wheel tightly.





“Shit, “ she said to herself, letting out a nervous laugh. Despite the moon and stars, the sky was still an inky black and the quiet of night added to the anxiety she has sworn would not affect her when she’d decided to return to the old family home.





The woman on the radio was now singing about the troubles that comes from loving a boy with blue eyes and a pickup truck, and she couldn’t help but sympathise, but then smiled as she decided that it was probably the singers own stupid fault for getting in the pickup truck in the first place and that she should probably just stay well away from blue eyed boys if she knew what is good for her.





“Now, now, that’s all a bit cynical isn’t it,” she said aloud to herself as she decided that the quiet of night was a far better option that the woes of the singer and turned the knob on the radio until it made a ‘click’ and fell silent. The road widened and flattened as the roadside markers ticked down from three to two miles, and soon the mountain side was left behind, the ravines disappeared, and tall pines lined the road ahead.





Though she had not been home for twenty years nearly, everything had a familiar feel already. Imprinted memories from her youth resonating as the headlights lit up the last few miles and the trees soon paved the way to the sprawling lawns and large houses that were dotted around the outskirts of town. Speeding up along the long sweep that would bring her home, she smiled as the town church spire appeared over the treetops, still white and bright against the night.





 Reaching down she decided to turn the radio back on and she scanned the dial as she twisted the black know and the thin red marker moved left to right. Music surged and faded, and she continued to search until the signal strengthened and the sound quite suddenly blared from the speakers causing her to start.





“Shit,” she said, heart racing as she looked down, struggling to quicky adjust the volume. The pickup veered towards the middle of the road as the small black knob came off in her fingers.”Oh double shit!” she exclaimed as it fell away into the footwell. It was soon to make little difference, as before she could look up there was a deafening blare of a truck horn over the sound of the music…and then nothing. Quiet.





Headlights cut through the star specked darkness as Clarissa feathered the breaks of the old pick up nervously, steepling mountain sides to one side and a seemingly bottomless drop to the other…

	


	





	

		
		
Shorts – Alignment
	


				

				
A while back i sat down to force myself to write 500 words a night. These are some of those word-salads

			

			
	
	

		
	

		

Having slowed somewhat in my writing, a while back(September 2022) I sat down to force myself to write 500 words a night. These are some of those word-salads. Unedited, raw, and just done for the hell of it…What concerns me most about this one is that I have no recollection of writing it. How curious.










Part 1 – Jennifer





Her thin, pale fingers still bloodied, Jennifer sat very still in the chair, hands cuffed to the desk in front of her. The room was uncomfortably warm, and the police office sat across from her was sweating more than she was.





“Are you quite okay?” she asked him, quite genuinely concerned as she watched rivulets of sweat run down the sides of his round, pink face. “I’d offer you a handkerchief,” she continued, holding up her hands until the chain clinked against bracket that held it in place, “but as you can see I am somewhat restricted in my movements.”





“Why did you do it?” the office asked, “we know you did it, we have witnesses to the whole thing. What we really want to know though is why would you stab a man through the heart in broad daylight?”





Jennifer said nothing, wishing he would wipe his face. He looked quite unwell and could certainly do to lose a few pounds. That might help. She didn’t mind the warmth particularly, it was actually nice to be warm for a change. This time of year the streets were so very cold, and no amount of blankets or cardboard boxes could stop the cold seeping into your bones.





“Did you know the man? Did he do something to you?” he asked, his eyes fixed firmly on her. “Did he want something from you, was that it?”





Jennifer looked down at the table and shook her head. She could still see his face, eyes wide in surprise, his red lunch pail dropping to the floor and sandwiches spilling at her feet.





From the very beginning she knew that she would have to go through this. There was never a thought that she would get away with it, that was never the point. In fact it was quite the opposite.





“So he was a complete stranger?”





Jennifer nodded again; head still bowed.





For a moment the tone of the officer softened, and he pulled his chair closer to the table and leaned in towards her.





“People don’t just kill complete strangers, do they Jennifer?” he said, “they just don’t do that. Now maybe you ought to tell me why you did what you did, and we can try and figure this whole thing out, eh. Did he hurt you? Is that why you did it?”





Jennifer looked into the face of the officer and sighed. His eyes were kind, despite all he must have seen in his time on the streets. They were very similar in that way she thought, only he was out there by choice.





“I did it, and I would very much like to go back to my cell if that’s okay,” she said calmly, a smile breaking out across her face. “I really do have nothing more to add. I’m guilty,  and its so very nice and warm in there and I believe lunch will be served soon.”





Part 2 – Donna





The door slammed violently, windows rattling, as Frank stomped down the hall. Heavy work boots clattered on the bare wooden floorboards and his voice boomed out.





“Donna, I’m home. Where are you?” His red lunch pail clattered as it was thrown on the small wooden table next to the door.





Upstairs, small feet scuttled and darted and then fell quiet as a sense of apprehension filled the air. A small, soft voice came from the ramshackle kitchen that sat at the back of the house.





“I’m sorry, I’m coming,” it said, a mix of fear and faked enthusiasm. ”it…it’s good to have you home,” she continued.  There was a clink of glass on glass and the sound of a bottle being put back down before she appeared through the kitchen doorway.





She was a small woman, a well-worn dress hung from her, shoulders to ankles, and her hair was pulled in a tight knot. She mustered a smile and it crept awkwardly across her face, a face with too many lines for her still young years. The remains of a bruise around her left eye were still vaguely visible in the dim light and she hurried to meet Frank, holding out a small glass of pale liquor in a thick bottomed cut glass tumbler. It had been part of a set once, not theirs of course, they couldn’t afford such things. Sometimes the family for whom she did washing would give her things they were otherwise going to throw away. As long as Frank didn’t think they were receiving charity, he was happy to not care where the things came from.





“Dinner?” he said taking the glass from her. “I don’t go to work all…”





He stopped his train of conversation as a thump and a crash from upstairs, and there was a small scream before it fell silent, stifled.





Frank roared, instantly enraged, and Donna reached for his arm to try to calm him. She knew it was pointless but she had to try.





“Here, she said,” desperately, “why don’t you come sit down and I will put the television on and I will go sort the twins out.”





Frank waited for a moment, nostrils flared and jaw clenched tight. All day he had worked, he told himself, all day just to come home to this.





“What they need is a dose of discipline,” he shouted, knowing they could hear him.





“I know, I know, please, let me deal with it,” Donna continued, her heart was racing and she knew how this would end.





Frank finished his drink in a single gulp and handed her the glass.





“Let me get you another while you sit, dinner will be ready in just a minute,” Donna said gently leading him into the living room. A large, battered leather chair sat in front of the television, a smaller couch to one side of the room and then very little else bar a few photos on a small side table. Frank dropped into it, and it seemed to groan as he settled in.





“Get me that drink,” he said, fierce eyes darting up to the ceiling and then back to Donna. He reached up and put a hand on her waist, and it took every effort in her not to flinch. He smiled and licked his lips, “good girl.”










Part 3 – Room 101





>>> Transmitting >>>





Cypher: We all set? You sure about this one?





Charon: Good to go. You worry too much. You need to learn to trust me. We’ve done this enough times.





Cypher: Transfers received?





Charon: This one’s gratis. Friend of a friend of a friend, and I was feeling charitable. Your finders fee remains the same though. It’s nearly Christmas, I am feeling charitable.





Cypher: Are you fucking serious?





Charon: Deadly





Cypher: LOL. Such a big heart.





Charon:  And she knows no lawyer right? She knows to just take it on the chin.





Cypher: Now who’s doubting who? She knows the drill. Do not pass go, do not collect 200.





Charon: Matched and dispatched brother, plausible deniability guaranteed. Ive set the server scrub. Tick tick tick…





Cypher: The things people will do for 3 meals a day and guaranteed warmth eh.





Charon: We didn’t start the fire, but we gotta pay the ferryman.





Cypher: You talk a lot of shit.





Charon: Service with a smile my friend.





>>>Transmission end…server reset initiated….>>>

	


	





	

		
		
Shorts – The Great Magico
	


				

				
A while back i sat down to force myself to write 500 words a night. These are some of those word-salads

			

			
	
	

		
	

		

Having slowed somewhat in my writing, a while back(September 2022) I sat down to force myself to write 500 words a night. These are some of those word-salads. Unedited, raw, and just done for the hell of it…What concerns me most about this one is that I have no recollection of writing it. How curious.










I have always been of the opinion, and remain strident in my certainty to this day, that clowns can just fuck off. And not a little. No, they can fuck well and truly off. They can fuck wholly and utterly and most completely OFF!





And it is with that steadfast clarity of conviction that I found myself sat at an until now run of the mill birthday party for 6-year-olds, beer in hand, when I was confronted by The Great Magico.





Wild eyes and white gloved, fingers torturing balloons and teasing them into twisted animal forms to ear piercing shrieks, he cavorts and darts from child to child. My mouth is dry and my heart races as his wide red lips peel back in a primal snarl revealing teeth with which to rip and tear, or perhaps to eat cake, though I do not wish to prejudge his intent – despite knowing in my heart this is truly a monster in our midst.





I recoil as the garish colours of his clothes flash before my eyes, my white-knuckled hands gripping the paper plate in my lap, an assortment of warm fruits and half eaten chocolate biscuits falling to the floor.





“Do you want a giraffe?” he asks a particularly excited ginger haired boy, and the boy nods and claps his hands, a fiendish contract of desire signed with a mere gesture. He will surely wake in the night when the painted fool returns for payment, mouth wide in at attempted scream that fades to nothing in the darkness.





I try to stand but my legs will not work. He has a hold on me, I can feel it, and I want to scream as bright-eyed girl, the birthday girl, her blood red dress trailing in the grass, runs over to him. Outstretched arms envelop her, pulling her close and she disappears beneath his foul garb. Can no one else see, are they blind to this madness. Surely, they are not blind to the funeral shroud around her lifeless body.





Though what is this? Moments later she is brought back from the precipice, the ferryman perhaps unpaid. The price too steep maybe?





I feel my legs stir, his hold loosened surely through the revival of such innocence in the face of darkness, and stumble to my feet. One in front of the other I attempt to escape his grip as his gaze turns to me, eyes as red as lucifers throbbing cod piece and nostrils flared like a dragon ready to consume me in the fire of his fury.





I fall to the ground, fingers clawing into the clod earth and fallen fruits, like those from the tree of knowledge, soaking through my clothes. The smell of beer catches in my nose, surely it is the breath of the dark jester prince as he prepares to consume my soul. The shrieks and screams of children fill the air. Surely this is it, my end, my moment of judgement.





And then, when things seem at their darkest, she is there once more, a voice as clear as a bell in the night. Sweet and gentle, like rays of light piercing the darkness of the clouds after a storm. She is my refuge, my port, my lighthouse of hope.





“Help daddy up, “she says, and a tiny hand takes mine where I lie.





“Why does daddy smell like toilet?” the small voice asks.

	


	





	

		
		
Shorts – Red dirt
	


				

				
A while back i sat down to force myself to write 500 words a night. These are some of those word-salads

			

			
	
	

		
	

		

Having slowed somewhat in my writing, a while back I sat down to force myself to write 500 words a night. These are some of those word-salads. Unedited, raw, and just done for the hell of it…










Benz waved his arms and screamed to be heard above the thunder of tank fire as a kamikaze drone tore through the air above the squads’ heads. It screamed through a broken window on the first floor of the admin building behind them, shards of glass hanging from the frame like broken teeth, and exploded with a ‘whizz-thump’ that seemed to pull the very air from your lungs before pulling in the walls and then suddenly hurling them outwards.





“Corporal Hill, get your arse out of that crater and over to sat-com,” he shouted, throwing himself to the ground behind the rubble of a small fallen wall to avoid the falling debris of the admin building. Just as quickly he then regained his feet and sprinted across the open ground towards what had once been a wide car park that had welcomed visitors as they approached the long-abandoned robotics factory.





More drones whizzed overhead, cutting through the billowing smoke that swirled around the tanks as they navigated slowly between the falling buildings. Hill pulled his battle jacket tight around his waist as he lay in the high sided crater, still warm from impact with smoke rising up slowly to join the fog of war that lay thick in the air. God only knew why command had sent them this way, he thought to himself. The bots had been waiting for them – as if they knew exactly where and when they would be there, and if they didn’t get out of here soon those drones were going to finish every last one of them off.





“let’s not make this another San Francisco,” Benz barked as he dived into the crater alongside Hill. Three other wide eyed grunts lay across from him with their weapons clenched close to their chests, probably only 16 years old if they were a day. Cannon fodder. There to serve the war effort.





“Evening boys,” Benz said smiling, eyes wild and steely blue. “Enjoying the war are we?”





All three shook their heads and Benz roared with laughter.





“No shit, they never told you it would be like this down in the caves did they”.





Again, all three shook their heads and seemed to shrink even further down into the crater.





For the briefest of moments compassion flickered across Benz’ face before he turned to Hill.





“I need you to get to forward command and let them know just how royally fucked we are. We’ve lost 80 percent of the battalion and it’s turning into a tank graveyard. Visibility is near zero and we can’t stop those kill drones.”





He turned back to the three grunts that were staring intently and listening to the two senior men.





“Oh, don’t worry lads,” said Benz, flashing them a thumbs up. “I’m pretty sure it will be just fine.”





The recruits nodded once more as Benz turned back to hill.





“It probably isn’t going to be fine,” he said as quietly as he could through the din of explosions and gun fire that rang all around.





Hill knew full well fine was the very last thing things were going to be.





“Can you do that for me?” Benz asked, not focussed solely on Hill. “Can you get that message to forward command? All other channels are down. We need air cover and exit or we are toast.”





Hill said nothing. What choice did he have he wondered? What would happen if he said no, if he admitted just how terrified he was and how he really did not want to be a corporal and that he did not even know why they were fighting.





“Hill,” snapped Benz, placing a hand on the man’s shaking shoulder. “So, can you do it for me? While I try help protect those tanks. Can you get that message to them.”





Hill stuttered that he could and scrambled to his knees, ready to leap from the crater. Benz was up in a flash and grabbed a handful of the webbing on the back of Hill’s battle jacket and helped heave him to his feet.





“Go,” he shouted and pushed hill up and over the lip of the crater.





Benz scrambled after him to make sure he had got away and as he raised his head over the lip of the crater he saw Hill ripped clean in half as a low flying drone tore clean through him. He didn’t even get to scream, his middle third was a bloodied mist before he even realised and his top and bottom thirds fell to the floor as his blood seeped into the dust and dirt.





Benz slipped back inside the crater cursing, fists crashing into the steaming earth. For a moment he closed his eyes to compose himself, taking in a deep breath and then exhaling, his breath mixing with the smoke and steam.





He looked across at the three boys across from him, huddled close together, terrified and unable to move.





“Is…is he okay?” one of them asked, a pale faced boy with a shock of red hair peeking out from under his helmet.





Benz smiled. “Oh yes, ran like a whippet after a hare,” he said, obviously lying. He’s probably  half way there already.





The three boys eyed him up warily. They were young and naïve, but not completely stupid.





“Anyway, “ said Benz. “Which one of you is the fastest…?”

	


	





	

		
		
Shorts – Dead Accountant walking
	


				

				
A while back i sat down to force myself to write 500 words a night. These are some of those word-salads

			

			
	
	

		
	

		

Having slowed somewhat in my writing, a while back(September 2022) I sat down to force myself to write 500 words a night. These are some of those word-salads. Unedited, raw, and just done for the hell of it…What concerns me most about this one is that I have no recollection of writing it. How curious.










When the dead rose, yawning graves willingly vomiting up their rancid, worm riddled treasures, there were those that cried that this was surely hell. They thumped their chests and proclaimed – often waving leather bound books – that these were the end of days, and that it was time for judgement and oh boy were we going to be sorry. They insisted that we weren’t to complain because the truth had been there all along, mostly tucked away in the bed side tables in hotel rooms they conceded – but none the less it was our own fault for not believing and not paying attention and we should just get on with what was surely coming our way.





Now obviously I should point out that other faiths and theologies were available for commentary on the matter, and in the main those professing them were also found with leather bound books, different ones, but most generally concurred that we had this coming and there was nothing that could be done now.





That is probably one of the positives of the whole end of the world thing. They were all right to a degree and were able to find common ground at last with a shared message. The smug satisfaction did not last long though as they – like most people – were soon trying – and failing – to avoid the dead because they weren’t at all interested in whether you or any of your newfound friends had a leather-bound book at all. They would quite happily feast on you regardless of denomination or size of your leather-bound book collection.





A few months later those of us that remained were rather convinced that in fact almost everybody – regardless of persuasion – had been so very far from the mark.





The dead it turns out just wanted everything else to be dead too you see. They weren’t at all fussy. Cat? Sure, thing they would happily make that dead. Dogs? Easy pickings. One dead dog coming up. Cow found wandering unsuspectingly. You got it. Deaded. And people? There were plenty of those to make dead so absolutely they were all in on people too. It seemed a straightforward and simple lifestyle, and given they seemingly had none of the complexities and strains of modern life to contend with they could focus all of their energies on making things dead, and they were making a bloody good fist of it.





No, this was not hell, because hell would have been preferable in some regards. At least hell was warm. This was something on a whole new level, well beyond the gnashing of teeth and the wailing of the childless mothers the Old Testament had promised in repayment for our iniquities. There was no horned chap sat on a throne with a pitchfork insisting that we calm down, stop complaining, and bend over for our daily anal probing.





This was worse than hell.





This was London 2042.





Oh, and did I mention I’m dead too? Oh yeah. Pretty unfortunate turn of event but that’s how it goes these days. I had wanted to be an accountant but turns out the universe had other plans.





Guess there are things worse than death eh. Accountant. What the hell was I thinking…