Black Satin

The night drips around me in liquid satin, a perfect black. I can taste its velvety texture, hear its thrumming silence, sense the still. The pause before the final breath, the hush before the breaking storm, darkness slips its fingers around my throat and squeezes with the subtle kindness of a misplaced love. I am choking. I want more.

Waking to dust mites caught in a single beam of gold, I wave the day away. Take me back, I whisper. Let me go. But the sun will not relinquish me; it never does. I pull up the covers and wait.

When you arrive all bloodshot eyes and scimitar smile, the darkness comes with you. This is your world, your eternity, and as I reveal the outline of my eager neck, I dream of it being mine too. I wait. You nod. It is.

50 Word Stories: Into Eternity

Whilst the sun drips away, sorrow purges dead veins like sea ice flowing to the heart. Yet, hope remains of a place beyond places where lovers might live in peace and the gentle thuds of a chest in motion beguiles what melancholy has disenfranchised. Two wait to step into eternity.

Into Eternity (Coming very soon!)

Also by Richard M. Ankers

The Eternals

Hunter Hunted

50 Word Stories: Lupine

Alice stopped and looked at me with those great big eyes of hers, round like full moons.

“Will we always love each other?” she asked, licking at her teeth.

“We always have.”

Alice raised an eyebrow, her lips curling up like a hungry wolf’s. “Forever and always.”

“Always and forever.”

50 Word Stories: Nocturnal

Staring at the moon was more than a pastime, more than a fad, for we had no time for such trifles. The celestial seeped into our bloodstreams each night turning crimson to silver, warmth to enduring cold, desire to determination. We would last forever, hands held, eyes locked, eternally nocturnal.




“Is this it?” she asked.

Our small boat rocked in the wake of a shoal of moonfish. It gave me chance to sugarcoat a reply.

“If it is, I can’t think of a better way to spend it.”

“You seem pleased.”

“I am, and you should be, too. We have the moon and an endless sea, the stars above and beneath us, the peace and solitude we always wished for.”

“Hm, but I don’t really like the sea.”

“Watch,” I said. I swished my hand through the obsidian waters stirring a gold and silver luminance as I did. Cupping as much seawater in my hands as I might, I threw it into the air where it rained back down as snowflakes.

“Ooh,” gasped Francesca.


“It’s beautiful.”

“Whenever you’re feeling sad or like our journey’s too long, I’ll do something even more spectacular to cheer you up. How’s that, my love?”

“Thank you,” she said, the memory of what had just occurred already lost, her eyes glazed and returned to the midnight horizon.

I sighed and pretended to look away. How could I tell her? What words did I have and how long before I, too, lost the ability to phrase them. We were ghosts, nothing more. We were whispers of corporeality, insubstantial starlight held within a dream. I wept, whilst still I could, unable to feel my tears.

Beyond The End

50 Word Stories: Midnight’s Breath

“Midnight,” she breathed, “we’ll meet at midnight.”

And I waited. How I counted every tick of the clock, every creak of the stairs, every heartbeat. Time moved as though drugged, a slowing of the blood. Then, she was there.

“Midnight,” she breathed, as she had every night since she passed.



A shadow of the woman I’d come to love, she hid in the shade of a willow. 

“Don’t be afraid,” I whispered. “I’m home, my love.” Breaths that should have kissed the morning were not there, but home was still home.

The object of my affections cowered further still pulling the willow tendrils about herself in a futile attempt to vanish. 

“Don’t you remember me?” I said.

“Please leave me alone.” Her voice, timorous and faint barely carried the short distance between us.

“But we were in love once. You must remember. You have to.”

Anna — for that was her name — released the willow’s tresses and stepped towards the river.

“Be careful,” I warned. But eyes wide, body shaking, Anna shifted closer to the churning waters.

“Please, Anna. I’ve traced my way home along the moonbeam roads from that place beyond places. I’ve navigated eternity and all for you. It took so long, so very long. But I’m home now. I’m home. You must come back. You have to remember.”

“There is no back,” she breathed. “You are not man who I loved. You’re a ghost.”

“But I’m a ghost that loves you!” I implored. “Isn’t that all that matters?”

“Yes,” she replied. Anna hung her head and said, “And that’s why I do this.”

I lunged for her, but too late, my hands passing straight through her lavender cardigan. Incorporeal, I could not save her. But I’d have died all over again if it meant I could. 

In a heartbeat she’d vanished swept away by the torrent and I was left distraught.

I screamed without sound, beat the ground without striking earth. 

“All for nothing!” I wailed.

“Not nothing, my love,” came a voice of liquid honey. “Not for nothing,” she said again, as a spectral hand took my own.

Somewhere – Else

I am drifting through an endless dream, my dream. A goodbye hangs from lips like a soggy cigarette, a friend who is unwilling to leave, but I cannot remember who I addressed it to. Perhaps, it was myself.

There are images in the twinned glass of up and down. Jagged points of interaction disturb a turquoise forever. The mountains are here. I have reached the mountains.

My little row boat drifts to a halt and I step out onto an unyielding surface. I do not slip through it for I cannot slip through it. After all, it is a surface of my own invention. I realise this now, though it is much too late.

I step into the peaks as though they are mole hills; I am one with eternity, this is my place, my home. Everything I am and everything I could wish for is here. Everything, that is, except you.

I will find you.