50 Word Stories: Those Eyes

In the middle of the night, I wake up screaming. I don't remember the why, how or when of my terrors just those terrible, haunted eyes. They flick open like Venetian blinds, quick and bright, then stare into my soul. I hate them. I really do. They're just like mine.

50 Word Stories: Night Flights (Part 2)

After my wife having read my last Night Flights story, I can say I haven't been flying so high. The engine noises have been replaced by some sort of low growl, my stretching out restricted by knees in my back. I hope to fly again, but maybe by charter instead. Part 1

50 Word Stories: Night Flights

When I can't sleep, I like to fly. That's right, I said fly. I stretch my legs, sticking my toes out from under the duvet, reach out my arms like wings, and pretend to be a plane. My wife's my co-pilot. She provides the engine noises. Every single night!

Do Not Disturb

 Sleep that oldest of adversaries has climbed in to disrupt my day. A ridiculously large coffee revives me in a way the fresh air has not, but not fully. I’m somewhere in between alive and not. There’s music playing in the coffee shop; I think it’s on repeat. I’m so tired I even contemplate […]

50 Word Stories: The Sound of Midnight

 The ghosts and the goblins, the witches and the hags, they hide in the dungeons, graveyards and sewers. You won't see them, but you'll feel them massing like an evil tide. What to do? your lips tremble. Go to sleep, my boy, and pray you don't hear the midnight tolling.

50 Word Stories: The Insomniac

Her eyes veined red, wide with the mania only insomniacs know, she stumbles through another hazy morning. A pale vampire, a demoness of the dark, she snarls in a rabid baring of incisors. I back away. "Morning, love," I try. "Where's my coffee?" I open the curtains, whilst I can.