My Drabbles (100 Word Stories)

A collection of drabbles (100 word stories) that  I've written for the Book Hippo newsletter:

http://BookHippo.uk


The Dreams of the Dead

I dream the dreams of the dead. The constant hunger for the luminous vibrancy of life burns and subsumes all capacity for reason or feeling. We exist alongside the living world, but it’s shadowed by the veil of our passing.

Our grey existence is eternal, and our hope is singular.

An explosion of light shatters the gloom. A rainbow in human form cast into a glowing shockwave passes through those nearby. For that moment, we glory in the life of the newly departed. All too soon the sensation fades, and our existence is grey once more.

And it sustains me.

Awakening

The rank stench of decay pervades the shifting mist. I glimpse vague forms, their movement creeping ever closer. Loathsome whispers torment my hearing with a hunger eager for satisfaction. Terror chokes me into silence, my scream a lump in my throat.

For the briefest moment their majestic horror is revealed. I behold creatures ancient while our universe was still young. The scream inside bursts free…

In a panic I awaken, sweat clammy on my skin. The relief is orgasmic as the fear fades. It returns in a heartbeat with the smell of corruption, and a shadow moves in the gloom.

The Charge

Hooves pounded the frost hardened ground, laboured breath steamed through the air. The array of red clad infantry fired and instantly wreathed in smoke. Bullets whistled past my ears. A horse screamed and collapsed, its rider flung afar.

Another volley crashed against us, but we’re almost there. A cannon booms, dirt and smoke choked my mouth. I heard the enemy’s cries now and saw their dirt streaked faces. My mount’s hooves smashed into skull and with a slash of the sabre we broke through the first rank.

Only to see another line of red and another volley of rifle fire.

The Thing With No Name

What a power it is to name a thing. With a simple word or phrase, you identify it and so can know its nature and divine its purpose.

What then when you encounter something that has no name? More than that, it can have no name.
To look at it is to feel a twist in your sanity and compounding your terror. You don’t know that it is a thing at all, only that this isn’t something you can flee from, fight, or bargain with.

What do you do when all that you know is that it must be endured?

I Remember the Words

I don’t know when the barrier first surrounded me. I walk through life without ever bumping into anything, or anyone. It’s as clear as glass so people think they can see me, and it’s as soft as silk so they don’t realise that they’re being steered away.

I’m certain it wasn’t always like this. I remember enjoying the world and the company it kept. I recall the perfect moment and declaring to everyone around me that I’d never been so happy.

Now all I can remember are the words and I wonder if I ever really felt anything at all.

The Pond

It’s hard to go back sometimes. The pond was once my hidden place, my refuge from a world too large to feel comfortable in. I always felt safe and hidden within the trees lining the banks like sentries. The lap of water and the sigh of the wind soothed my fevered thoughts.

Now it’s dark and rotten. A sombre reflection of the person I had since become. Its power to protect had diminished with time’s passing. When I look in the mirror of the water I am not surprised to see that it’s not my face looking back at me.

A Sight to Remember

The dream is the same every night. I’m sat on the side of a mountain and up above the sky is clear blue with the odd wisp of cloud. The sun feels strong on my face, cooled by the soft breeze carrying the voice of the world.

The mountains form the spine upon which a lush green carpet is draped. A river meanders through the valley, fed by streams sparkling in their stumble down the mountainside.

I understand that this vision will be the last thing I will see. And you know what? I could enjoy this view for eternity.

The Missing Link

“There is no great maker!”

“How can you say that with all the evidence around you?”

“What evidence?”

“Look at the complicated perfection of our senses and our brains and tell me that there isn’t an agent of design behind those attributes.”

“The fossil record shows that we evolved from creatures before us. Every part of us evolved from a simpler form into what we are now. We weren’t designed.”

“So where is the so called missing link?”

“One day we will discover the link transitioning human to machine and then you’ll realise that the humans were not our creators.”

The Perfect Moment

She promised me delights of a nature unimagined and oh my God, she was right.

With delicate torture we travelled avenues of such exquisite pain that the pleasure transcended beyond understanding.

The final cut severed the illusion that death provided any escape and unfettered by the limits of flesh she taught me suffering so divine I prayed that it would never end. Upon an ocean of agony I drifted. Each wave crested me towards that singular perfect moment, a nirvana of pure agony which almost drowned my soul.

And with loving embrace she ignored my screams and answered my prayers.

Seconds from the End

I hated street patrol. A condition red alert meant every available officer was deployed throughout the city. This time of day families from all around crowded the market.

He stood out instantly. A white face usually did in this neighbourhood. The man’s shaved head, smart clothes and nervous disposition fit the profile. My glance surprised him and his sudden panic revealed his intentions.

I’d trained to draw my pistol quickly, but I wouldn’t be quick enough. His hand reached into his jacket as mine touched my gun. I started to aim in the same moment the blast wave struck.

I'm Sorry

“I’m sorry.”

“Of course you are, but why are you sorry?”

I’m sorry that nothing I do ever is quite right.

I’m sorry for crying myself to sleep each and every night.

I’m sorry that I live in fear for when you return home.

I’m sorry that what remains of my life is for you alone.

I’m sorry about the decision made all those years ago.

I’m sorry I’m forced to live with no love bestowed.

I’m sorry for never being able to make you feel proud.

But most of all I’m sorry I can’t say these words out loud.

The Word Unheeded

With a vision the King became a Prophet. In the vision he saw the evil of eating the flesh of others. He witnessed that from their sin a doom would come of fire and storm. A fate approaching ever closer with every meal.

He shared the truth with the others and the plant eaters rejoiced, for his word promised a better world for them. But his brother Tyranosaurs rejected the idea. “Are we not born to eat flesh?” They asked. “Our teeth are long and our claws are sharp.”

They consumed him to punish him and unseen their extinction approached.

The Space In-between

There is a secret hidden deep inside the heart of the universe. A terrible reality which once challenged the power of the divine. In a war spanning our universe and beyond the elder beings almost destroyed everything that was and what might yet come to be.

Those who survived imprisoned the horror inside a maze of nothingness. Only the complex space in between could contain their impossible forms. Their presence creates quantum chaos to what was once mathematical precision.

No faith alone can unlock their prison, but science has the key.

The elder ones await our discoveries with keen hunger.

A Friend at the End

Ah fear my old friend. It is so good to see you after so many years apart. We enjoyed such wondrous times you and I amidst the squalor of London’s streets. I sensed your presence beside me in the quickened pulse jetting from their beautifully slender necks. Together we dined on the rarest and most delightful of screams.

But your arrival at this time disturbs me. Why cast your fell shadow upon me on today of all days? You traitorous fiend! We were allies once and now you cloud my passing with dread of what will follow my dying breath.

Giga-thoughts

Everything began with a single thought. A pure singularity of consciousness where nothing existed. That first thought begat another and then more. Time formed to mark the passage of one concept to the next.

A universe created to encapsulate the phasespace of infinite possibility. The calculation of perception stratified into a framework of existence.

Immensity expanded into complexity, which in turn compressed into beings with their own thoughts. Nova of consciousness sparked throughout the expansion of the first thought. A billion minds increasing in number creating a confusion of experience.

From ‘I am’ to ‘We are’. What will come next?

Life of a Prayer (Believer Version)

From my heart comes the pain, a physical thing too terrible to bear.

From my mind emerges understanding of my suffering and the desire to be whole once more.

From my lips issue the words of my prayer, my dream for a life reborn anew.

Through God’s ears he comprehends the anguish that my lips have spoken.

Through God’s great benevolence he provides comfort and hope in a world that has none.

Through God’s wisdom I understand a world greater than the darkness around me.

Day by day I am comforted and from grief’s long night dawn rises once more.

The Life of a Prayer (Atheist Version)

From my heart comes the pain, a physical burden, too terrible to bear.

From my mind emerges understanding of my suffering and the desire to be whole once more.

From my lips issue the words of my plea, my hopes for a life reborn anew.

Through my ears I hear the words that my lips have spoken.

Through my mind I tease meaning from the memories of the life I have lived.

Through my dreams I ponder the solution to my grief.

Through the passage of time I accept what has gone and what has come and life rolls on.

Face in the Mirror

I stare at my face in the mirror and I can’t be sure that it’s really me. My eyes are hunted and bruised from nights of disturbed sleep. A dread has stalked my dreams, twisting them into nightmares that linger even in dawn’s embrace.

In the mirror I glimpse a malformed shadow lurking behind me, its touch is cold upon my skin and fills me with terror. My will fails and I fall into the mirror, my final scream frozen in glass.

I gaze at my reflection and admire my new face, I think I’ll wear it for a while.

Just One Question

The penitent knelt with her head bowed in the confessional. The dark wood shrouded her in forbidding shadow as she waited in expectant silence. She’d never had to wait for so long after confessing her sins, although she’d worked really hard at them for this occasion.

Eventually the priest’s stern voice filtered through the latticed divider.

“You have sinned against the church, sinned against your family and most importantly, you have sinned against yourself. Your penance will be most severe.”

The penitent smiled.

“Will it hurt Father?”

And then in a more plaintive tone.

“Will it hurt just a little?”

Other People

They say that Hell is other people and with that I completely agree. Only with other people do you suffer deceit, hate and misery from the murky pit that forms social interaction. Alone I remain apart and untouched by the daily horror of the swarm around me.

Yet I see that is not the whole story.

I marvel that others share happiness between each other. I witness the happenings of friendship and love, joys that I will never feel for myself.

And then I wonder, is it other people that bring Hell into my life? Or is it just me?
A Man and his Shed

I like it here in my shed. There are cobwebs in the roof and it’s chilly in winter, but it’s all mine. I can make a brew, read the paper and even have a smoke if I want to. There’s an old comfy chair that I relax in and listen to the sports news on the radio.

I hear horrific screams from outside, people shouting and even loud bangs like gunshots. It sounds like the end of the world has arrived.

I’m safe here in my shed, but I snap the padlock shut on the door just to be sure.

No Matter How Deep


I couldn’t believe I’d been so careless. She stood there her face frozen in a rictus of perfect horror as she saw the mess I’d created. I hadn’t meant to of course, I’d been a little too enthusiastic in my investigations.

What can I say? When I start on a puzzle I’ll do whatever it takes to solve it. And this really was a tricky conundrum.

“My God, what have you done?”

“Looking for what you saw.”

“What do you mean?”

“You said she had the most beautiful soul, but I looked everywhere in her and I couldn’t find it.”

Skin Deep

Some people claim that beauty is only skin deep. I scoff at such a foolish notion. Is the treasured Christmas gift special because of the shiny paper? Of course not. Certainly it provides a pleasing presentation, but once you get underneath you discover the real beauty.

It isn’t easy; it takes a practised eye to appreciate the form, the shine, the texture of the muscle. Only with the proper study can you marvel at the delicate marbling of fat and meat. Enjoy the skin, peel it back carefully so that you don’t spoil the treasure.

And the taste. Oh the taste.

A Mask for every Occasion

I learned at a young age that to blend in with herd provides greater advantage than standing out. Before my balls dropped it became obvious to me that attracting attention would hamper my destined purpose.

The trick is to be like them, to wear the same masks they do. They don't realise they're wearing masks, but that only makes the deception easier.

Whatever I do I wear the appropriate mask. I once thought the mask for work was the hardest to maintain, now I know it is the one for my wife.

No matter, she'll soon see me without it.


Black Sun

Black moon and blacker sun in a turbulent monochrome sky. Gibbering monstrosities stalk me across this nightmare plane. Their shuddering moans tear at my fragile resolve.

The spell of another has cast me into this world of dread torment. A hell created for those still living, but doomed to never to cross the veil.

I must not abandon hope; there must be escape for my tortured soul. The ghosts of the damned clutch at me. They steal my warmth, piece by tiny piece.

I must leave this realm before I have no warmth, or I will never leave at all.

The Wrong Car

"I'm going to gut you like a fish, drag out your entrails and then set fire to them while you watch."
...
"Do I have your attention?"
...
"Don't worry, I won't really do that. I'm not a savage!"
...
"I know, you can't speak. I've stitched your lips together. It's better that you just listen for now."
...
"We're going to play a game and you are going to learn how to park your car."
...
"The rules? Simple. Every time you scratch the car, I'm going to scratch you. And you already owe me one from this morning."

Mutant Zombie Ninja Death Clowns From Outer Space

This is going to be the best movie ever! So I'm underage, but that's ok, the old lady at the counter doesn't care. It's going to be freaking awesome. I can't wait to tell everyone that I've seen it.

I pick the best spot. There's nobody here, which is cool. It's quiet, so I can watch the movie undisturbed. It's odd how quiet it is. And there's a funny smell.

Who's that standing by the exit?

No freaking way!

It's a real mutant zombie ninja death clown. I can't tell if it's from outer space.

Hey, it's moving this way.

Rude Awakening

When we die our life passes before our eyes. In an instant we see all our hopes and fears. All of the despair and joy. All of the love and hate that we have ever known.

The balance of that moment weighs our soul as it passes on.

At birth the reverse is true. As we are born, all that we are yet to be swamps our infant mind. The life that stretches before you confuses and terrorises your first thoughts. A mind at peace suddenly torn asunder - is it no wonder that we scream with our first breath?

Character Study

Things aren't always what they seem. Look at that old man over there. He doesn't look like much, his back bowed under the weight of his years. His skin wrinkled and stretched across his bones.

But look closer, into his eyes.

Those aren't the eyes of an old man. No, there is something much older concealed beneath. The pin pricks of the deepest black reveal an evil beyond human imagining.

It wears the aged flesh like a cheap suit. A disguise that cloaks it while it hunts unseen amongst the human herd.

Too late I realise, it's looking at me.


China Doll

Her cold lifeless eyes are staring into mine. Her perfect porcelain features, without expression, hold me transfixed where I stand.
"Genuine haunted doll", was the description on eBay. Of course I thought it was a gimmick, just something to push up the price. I thought it was pretty cool, so I bid and won.
It arrived yesterday, it looked pretty creepy. I placed it on the table and here I am. I cannot move. I'm hungry and thirsty. I can't even look away; I'm locked in this death stare.
Oh God! Will anybody find me here? Before it's too late?
Solemn Vow

We made a vow, you and I. Before the altar we declared our love to the world. For a time I was the happiest a man could be.
But you broke that vow. You and him. Together you betrayed my trust, despoiled our love. My wife and my brother. I couldn't believe it at first. All too quickly what was joy turned into a hate so bright it provided the only light in my darkness.
And so here I am, digging a shallow grave for you both in the soft soil. I kept my promise - till death do us part.
Universal Truth?

I've been told that light is good and evil is darkness. If this true then I discovered something. Imagine you are in a room filled with light. Look at the floor and you'll see your shadow. Your being in the light has introduced darkness, a mar on the light's perfection.


Now turn the light off. It's dark isn't it? But note how you can no longer see your shadow. It seems that evil remains unchanged by the presence of something, where the good is automatically changed.


What does this mean? I don't know, but it keeps me up at night.

The Dance

We're condemned to the dance that never ends. With the exaggerated etiquette of the cursed we hold hands and bow. The same every night we dance, watched only by the sentinels of stone that circle this barren hilltop. There's no light to guide our feet, only the howl of the forlorn wind to provide our rhythm.

Unseen in the dark we spin and pray. Always begging for release from our unjust punishment. A celebration of love long damned by Heaven's sight. A love now faded with roses of blood. Our prayers left unanswered and so on dead limbs we dance.


The Accused

You stand before this court accused of crimes against humanity.

The charges against you are first the one billion deaths of genocide by drowning. In addition there are several counts of biological warfare and spiritual terrorism thought the world over a period of several thousand years.

The lesser charges include writing material likely to cause offence. There are also several million counts of inciting racial and religious hatred. You are also accused of the false imprisonment for over 100 billion souls. Last but not least, is the complicit conspiracy in the murder of your own son.

How do you plead?

All in a row

I've never shown anyone my collection before. I've spent years putting it together. I designed to display stands myself, perfect for showing a treasure so fine.

No, don't look over there. They were my early attempts. Miserable failures compared to my recent efforts. It's not as easy as you might think. It took a lot of practice before I perfected the technique.


Now hold still, this will hurt a lot. First a delicate slice along the jaw and up past the ears. Next a clean cut along the temple and then gently peel back the skin and we're done.


Beautiful.

This one had a slightly different challenge, we had to write a drabble with "the robin was in suspenders again" in the text, so here is what I put together.


On The Prowl

The sparrow hopped nervously across the grass. His favourite water dish stood proud in the centre of the manicured lawn. It glanced at the neat bushes that bordered the garden. This was cat territory. It paid to be careful. Many a small bird had met its end trying to reach the water. The risk was worth it though, sometimes there would be bread.

It skipped and leapt into the air, taking a snaking path through the air. In the last moment it veered away. A flash of colour, not a cat this time, but the robin was in suspenders again.



The Best Fruit

"Hi honey, I'm home!"


"Hi darling."


"What's for dinner?"


"I've been in the orchard and gathered some wonderful fruit."


"Sounds great. I've not seen these before. They look bigger and more scrumptious than usual."


"Well, it was the most amazing thing. I was picking fruit and a serpent spoke to me."


"A serpent?"


"Yes, I didn't believe it at first. But he told me where to find the best fruit."


"Oh."


"Indeed. He led to me to the centre of the orchard and there I saw the biggest and most beautiful tree."


Adam felt a sinking sensation in his stomach.


Pong


There's a terrible stench in the air, foul and fetid as if the bowels of the underworld have ruptured and spilled across the world. There's no visible sign or source of this odious reek. Dark clouds gather in concert along a sky already pitch black.

A rabbit barks.


Crowds of people spill into the streets, forced from their homes by the odorous assault. Their forms look vague, like ghosts hidden in the fog.


A voice booms from the sky. A sudden pain in my arm accompanies it.


"Oi! How many times have I told you not to fart in bed?"


Seven Deadly Sins

I set myself a challenge yesterday. I thought to myself, I must have committed all of the deadly sins at one time or another, but never all at once. It took some organising, but today I completed that challenge.


I had sex with my mate's girlfriend's sister, the ugly one. Naturally I was underneath, enjoying the moment while I shouted at my friend. If it hadn't been for the stupid challenge I would have been with the pretty one. No matter, the chocolates were delicious.


It was a proud moment; I should have recorded and sold it on the Internet.


A Ghost's Lament


The world is silent now. There's no air left to carry sound. The rapture came long ago and ripped the atmosphere away. It took everything. All the people, dead and alive. All the sprits, even all the animals and plants. All that's left is the bare rock, scarred with a few fresh craters.


And me.


Why it left me I don't know. I wasn't a believer, but neither were so many people when the end came. I guess I'll never know. The whole world was swept clean.


Only this battered rock and the stars above remain. Except me to haunt it.


The Stairs

There's a light at the top of the stairs. Its harsh glow promises sanctuary. The stairs creak as I step on them, in terror I freeze. In desperation I listen for any sounds of movement. Relieved I hear nothing.

Carefully I take another step. I freeze again as the steps creak, not daring to look at anything other than the beckoning radiance.

A third step, the noise louder this time. I don't stop, I run up the stairs. I race towards the light. My feet thunderous against in the dark.

The sudden hand is cold against my ankle. I fall.

Singularity

Take a look around you. It'll only take a moment. If you're really lucky you'll be able to see a night sky full of stars and infinity. Ok, maybe not infinity, but as close as you'll ever see. Now take all the memories of your life and multiply that by every person that has, or will ever live.


Stretches the mind doesn't it?


Everything you see; everything that is, everything that was and everything that will be all came from a single point. All of the information the universe would ever contain was held in that singularity.


Amazing isn't it?


Sun Dragon


No one believed the boy as he screamed in his sleep about a monster that would swallow the sun. A behemoth that infected his dreams. They soothed him with gentle words, but did not listen.


For a full moon cycle he suffered the nightmares. His vision the same every fear filled night. He begged his parents to make it stop. His mother wept and his father scowled. They spoke with the doctor. He prescribed some pills, but they didn't help.


Still they didn't listen to the boy. Until the day the dragon swallowed the sun.


It's cold now. And dark.


Little White Pill


I wake up every morning disappointed to be alive. Another day to endure. I force myself to look on the positive side, at least there is one day less to suffer.


My mood remains dark as it maps the coming misery and despair. My mind's eye keen to reveal the stark horror of my life. A life no different from those around me.


The little white pill takes the pain away, but everything else as well. No joy, no love, no happiness. Yet no depression or black fugue either.


My life homogenises into blandness thanks to the little white pill.


Dirty Shoes


Will you look at that? A spot of blood on my finest shoes. I spent a fortune on them only a few years ago. Finest Italian craftsmanship.


It's my own fault, I'm normally more careful. I wear those elasticated baggies so I don't spoil them. But tonight I gave into temptation. I spotted a delicacy so sweet God himself surely put her on that path.
She didn't hear me creep up behind her and with a savage motion sliced open her throat. I pushed her away quickly to avoid the arterial spray. Not quickly enough. I've ruined my favourite shoes.
Blessed Are The Little Ones

Impossible geometries fold the stark reality around me. The obsidian walls are sleek with an oozing luminescence that swallows me in their dread glow. The carved symbols hurt my eyes when I look at them. Octopod obscenities stalk me, I hear their slavered moans.


I pray for to a God younger than this dark temple. A terrible entity from a plane far removed from our fragile cosmos bends its gaze upon me.


In shivering terror I lurch into the morning light.


The Great Cthulhu takes a dim view of calamari; I shall remove it from the menu at once.


False Dawn


There's a sound at the edge of my hearing, a scratching that wears away at my fragile sanity. There's laughter too, mocking my feeble grasp of the stygian reality. Twisted shadows dance across the ruined walls.

I run along the passageway that stretches before me. There's light at the end of this tunnel, if I can reach it I can find sanctuary. The mocking laughter now howls in rage. Ghostly fingers clutch at me as I flee.

My chest aches. I focus only on the running. I must escape. I leap into the light and drown in the white emptiness.


Hostage Rescue

The concussive charge shatters the window. Charge up the steps and into the living room. Other charges detonate shaking the house. Moving quickly, the blast will only stun those inside for a few seconds.

Enter the room. Vision is constrained by the face mask; tendrils of tear gas fill the room. Movement spotted, take aim. Target has a gun. Two shots fired hit him centre mass.

"Target down. Room clear."

More bangs throughout the house. Radio reports of rooms cleared. Move into the passageway. See target dragging hostage. Tricky shot. Calm breathing and shoot twice.

"Target down. Hostage secure."


Freeze Frame

A friend told me something extraordinary. She said the last thing a person sees when they die is recorded in their brain.

So I thought about that and it wasn't long before I comprehended the horror of it.

Follow my thinking here. The brain is working enough to capture that final image. Now what if other parts of the brain are still functioning? If that is true then that means the mind is still active, if only for a few seconds.

How long would those seconds last with only that last image to see?

It keeps me up at night.


The Music of the Spheres


It started with a single chord, a sound signifying the very moment of creation. The chord still plays binding the music that fills the spheres. Now stretched by time it is a bass that can only be felt, not heard.
Strings play as energy coalesced into matter. Their tones start light, building into a crescendo as suns and then galaxies are born and fade.
Into the gaps wind instruments herald the birth and death of planets and all sundry of bodies in the dark.
And what of us? The moment of the penny whistle that has only begun to play.

A Marriage Made In...
Hell. You know the place. Lakes of burning sulphur. Torture pits filled with the wailing of the damned. Not the place you'd expect to fall in love. But I did.
Our eyes met across the inferno. It was love at first sight, or at least first scream. The demons didn't approve at first, they tried to quench our love with fire and brimstone.
We endured and in the end they came round.
Lucifer himself even officiated at our wedding. Love, honour and obey, two of those things are welcome here.
But 'till death do us part could be a problem.
Digital Blasphemy

I volunteered for the experiment. The doctors kept me awake as they drilled into my skull. On a screen I watched as they poked and cut into the exposed brain.

They completed the operation and attached cables to my brain, their colours bright against the grey matter. With the connection made sudden light blinded me.

The light faded and the connections flooded my mind. I followed the wires, my thoughts expanding into connected computers. Too late they realised their mistake and tried to turn me off.

My mind more than meat, now digital in form I absorbed the net.

Omniscience.


One Jump Too Many



Pilots like me jump into hyperspace every day. We take it for granted. We plot our course and with a surge of exotic energy tear a hole to the destination.
Without our neural implants we cannot perform the calculations quickly enough to perform the jumps. Even flight computers cannot calculate the permutations fast enough.
But brain and computer melded together can. But sometimes the connections break. And you don't know they've broken until you jump.
A hyperspace jump is instantaneous. That's not true, it takes nanoseconds. In hyperspace a nanosecond second lasts an eternity with a broken brain-computer connection.
Jump.
Missile

I'm hanging from the pylon waiting. I never get bored of watching. I'm always ready.

My sensors sniff a patch of heat close by. I let my pilot know by beeping in his ear.
The plane banks, the scent now stronger. I gain a lock and I'm filled with ecstasy. I warble at the pilot in my excitement and he releases me.
I drop from the wing and fire belches from my engine. I rush along the scent following it to my destination. It tries to escape, but I hit the enemy and exult in the moment of our demise.
Together, Forever

Once your caress was warm and tender, now your touch haunts me with its chill breath. I know I should let you go my love, but I cannot. The pain of parting is too heavy to bear. In anger I refuse to be grief's servant. I cannot allow you to join Heaven's choir.

Instead I bind you to this mundane world of flesh and tears. Your cold embrace is still warmer than the chasm created by your passing. My comfort only comes from the briefest glimpse of your beauty at the cusp of sleep and dreams.

Together we remain. Forever.


Watcher of the Dawn

The watcher sat, alone and majestic in the cold thin air upon the mountain. With keen eyes he surveyed the valley below. The lush garden spread for miles enclosed within the mountain wall. The wind ruffled his feathers, its icy bite failed to mar his alabaster skin.
In an endless cycle, days darkened into night only for dawn's rise to brighten the sky again. Through extreme weathers he maintained his post. His singular task to watch and protect the naked lovers who tended the garden.
Unseen by the guardian on this fateful dawn, the dreaded serpent crawled into the light.
Jigsaw

Jigsaw pieces all over the floor. They won't go back together. I know they fit. I've seen them fit. Each piece once part of the original whole. Now they lay scattered and I cannot fix them.
I pick them up, one by one. Place them with the others. I push the bits together with all my might only for them to fall apart when I let go.
Why won't they fit? Why did I break them in the first place? I know where the pieces go. The blood makes the pieces slippery. Maybe that's why they won't go back together?

The Demon Who Couldn't Lie
"Trade in your soul now. What do you want? Money? I have bags of it! Good looks? No problem. Need healing? I can provide you with a miracle. Anything you desire for the rock bottom price of eternal damnation."
"You want to buy a soul? Sorry, demons don't have souls."
"Have I any human souls? Sorry, I have none in stock."
"Why not? Well I'm the demon who cannot lie and no-one will sell me one."
The Box

I'm trapped in a box barely six feet wide. I can sit in the box. I can stand in it. I can even lie down. But I cannot leave the box.


I don't know how long I've been in the box. I have no memories from before the box; it is all I've ever known. Each night I fall asleep, hungry tired and thirsty. I never dream.


When I wake I am the same again.


There's no sound in the box, no scent, not even my own. I cannot think of anything outside of the box.


I am always here.


The Devil's Smile


"You have the devil's smile." That's what she told me; before we kissed unseen under the bloated moon. I remember the air was chill. Wisps of our breath escaped into the air as we parted our kiss. "That was a devil's kiss." She teased, with an expression so coy.
"What is it?" She exclaimed, a hint of panic trembled in her voice. She had seen the glint of steel in the moon's cold light. "You have the devil's eyes!" She cursed as I plunged the knife deep.
"I have the devil's smile." I whispered alone and faded into the night.
In The Dark

A thousand burning candles arrayed in a circle protect the girl from the shadows that gnaw at the flickering light. Alone in the circle she waits. She must endure the night. With a fractured voice she prays.


The darkness answers her prayers with a voice. The voice scratches at her sanity, promising only a terrible end. She continues to pray, seeking any solace. She shivers, the room now cold. A breeze, chill and with a fetid smell extinguishes the candles.


She moans. She clutches the last lit candle close to her chest knowing that it will not last the night.


This Killing Emptiness


Stars. Nothing but stars in all directions. My breathing is laboured, the oxygen mix almost too low for life. A random accident, a burst of the thrusters and now drifting. Too far for rescue. I don't mind the view is amazing. Pin sharp stars across the infinite black veil.


If I'm going to die, this is all I could have hoped for. It doesn't hurt, it feels pleasant. I'm not afraid. I enjoy the view. Absorb its majesty. They say the last moment follows you for eternity. If that is true then I am indeed blessed. I only wish that...


Clowns


Lying on my bed and see my room full of clowns. Happy clowns, sad clowns, laughing clowns, even a tall gaunt clown with spindly legs. My mummy thinks I like them and keeps buying me more. I wish I could tell her how much they frighten me. Everywhere I look, I see another clown's face.


One hundred different clowns, none of them the same. I say my prayers with mummy then count them before I sleep. Snuggled in my duvet I count them once again. This time the number comes up short and there's a rustle under the bed.


Don't turn around


I felt its breath, chill against my neck. I knew what stood behind me. Only on this night it possessed the power to achieve its justice. I must not look at it. only in its sight could it harm me.


I walked forwards, along the cobbled street. If I could reach the village church I’d be safe for another year, until the return of this dread date.


Its footsteps echoed mine as I walked, my gaze kept low. I stumbled, looked up and caught the reflection in the window. Too late I tried to avert my gaze. 


Too late.

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