The Shriek I detest the drear The ebon night Pale at the stars In the bright moonlight Cower from the creaking Cringe from the shrieks It’s all in the mind My inner self shrieks Photo by Michael Mouritz on Unsplash
Winter Shadows The lights make mischief Every shadow every shape Whilst waiting for snow
They hear us at night Tinkling in the jet darkness As spiders build webs
We twirled in the tide with nothing but the ocean and our breaths for an orchestra. Above, the moon waltzed with the stars as if captured by the mood. Time was an afterthought, sunrise and sunset distant memories. Even the night paused. Why? Because sometimes you just have to dance.
50 Word Stories: They They slid over us like the stars the night, white ghosts stalking the cosmos. Albinos, as like us as not, They confronted us in nightmares and found us wanting. Nameless, They took our everything in intangible truths and left us with nothing. They, we called them, those reflections of us.
I hear them giggle. I feel them wiggle. I smell an unknown scent. My wife is with another man and a rage I have suppressed for a decade surfaces. Why I carry a knife I do not know, but I do and it feels good in my palm. I act before they stir. I stab […]
The landing has a familiar air that the other rooms have not. I know there’s a picture of Helen and myself looking right at me even if I can’t see it. The picture is yet another bane; it is of our wedding day, a constant reminder of my shackles.I sneak towards our bedroom: first door […]
I bumble my way across the dining room to the foot of the stairs. Here, I pause. I know full well the first three steps creak from shoddy workmanship. Even though our house is still new in the timespan of such things, the stairs are a constant noisy annoyance. I step to the right which […]
I run my fingertips across our new kitchen doors; they seem less polished, more ragged than the lacquered finish that cost me a holiday and a year of moaning. I don’t know why this is because I bought them for Helen, or so I convince my obsequious self each new day that I fawn upon […]
Author’s Note: from my WIP. There is dark. There is darker. I fall somewhere in between. Some might say the black void of infinity close; it is too cold for my liking, too remote. The storm would come closer, those moments before the lightning strike when midnight gathers and fury threatens; I am not furious, […]