I noticed the line curling around the bottom of my index finger in fine red script one bitter winter’s morning. I recall how I surveyed it thinking it a mark; it wasn’t there yesterday, though. The harsh reality, it was something altogether more sinister. I followed the filament across my palm, then up my arm […]
It was neither the creeping mass of foetid flesh, a wall of nightmares given life, nor the wailing sounds of the lost given harrowing voice, but something entirely different. The truth, my love, it was seeing you as one of them that broke me. Understandable really.
Would the end of the world spell the end of all things, or the beginning of something else? A question that needed to be answered. That’s why I built my rocket and headed to the moon. There, I set up shop and waited. The end came in a trillion explosions of sunburst and gloom. I […]
Life as a breadcrumb scattered for the birds. The winged ones peck at your head, then look away. Even they won’t touch you. So, you wait for the wind to blow you into the gutter, drift with the detritus down, down, down into the depths and pray the rats ignore you too. They do, what’s […]
"Who woke me up?" "Not me." "Why’s the living room door open?" "I don’t know." "What’s all that rustling?" "I can’t say." "Why’re the Christmas presents all shredded and ripped?" "Who knows." "Why’s the dog got chocolate all over his face?" "Father Christmas put him up to it." "Why?" "Duh!"
When molten silver lit the night, and the supermoon wavered over seas of liquid glass, they awoke. As the tendril arms of the midnight tree unfurled, they opened monochrome eyes and gazed upon the wonder of the universe. The moonbeam birds took flight and a world wept at their leaving.
I stand in the middle of an open field waiting, always waiting. Arms extended, I spin and twirl and fall hoping for silver raindrops, porcelain snowflakes, or even the delicate pink of a Cherry Blossom tree to fall upon my skin. I seek some colour in this colourless world. Any.
Smaller than a fingernail, the ice-faerie gave a demure smile; she wanted me to see her. The little one peeped from behind a falling snowflake, eyes meeting mine, and then beckoned to the others. There were millions of them. Funny how a snowflake can melt your heart.
The ghost of a breath, it swept past my neck. And I hoped. And I prayed. Dared I look? My eyes, so used to disappointment that I kept them in shadows, sought only shade. “Step into the light,” she whispered. It was she. It was me. It was we.
Suspended just beneath the pond surface, I spied a flash of vermillion, a ghost of white, the koi were frozen in place. It had happened overnight, so fast that the oxygen they’d expelled was held in glasslike bubbles before them: time suspended. A warm sun rose; I removed my hat.