Transmute The Fear

A short story from the dark side… You would never suspect I was a taker of lives. I didn’t grow up wishing to be this. I didn’t dream about killing my first victim. Synchronicity brought us together and started the deathly slow-train of thought in my mind. Slowly, it snaked round my brain. She wanted…

Truths

And then one day she realised a Great Truth that allowed her to truly start accepting everyone who crossed her path.

A Lost Chapter

On the 8.05 train I try to sit and think of nothingness. It doesn’t help when everywhere I look, people are rushing. Back and forward like ants, here and there like wandering nomads. Going everywhere, getting nowhere. Never stopping, always moving, always plugged in. The mouths are busy talking, the fingers busy texting. Ears plugged…

Save Me

I sit in the café waiting, waiting. I didn’t know he’d keep me waiting. Wasn’t that funny? Never thought he was the type. Seemed he was. Didn’t he know you can become addicted to people? I’m at the withdrawal stage now. I need my hit. The waitress asks again if I’m ready to order, I…

Heal Me

If you believe, I’ll believe. Do you believe I can heal myself? After the knife stab wound turns wet with blood, there is no return from here. But I hear it, although tiny, I hear his thought. I believe you can do it. Then I am pulled, my mind is pulled and stretched, so wide…

The Flow

He imagined her eyes would look frozen like those of a fish, taken out of water and paralysed on the pavement as heavy footed limbs trampled across her, the eyes wide in life but the body limp in near-death, as her brain slowed to die and stopped her blood from moving warmly. Her blood would…

Lost Souls

Every Saturday he would be there, as accurate as ever, precisely two minutes before eleven.  He was more reliable than the trains.  I’d sit, to the left of the steps leading up to Queen Street Station, knees bent up, hands stuffed in pockets, trying to figure out why he fascinated me so much. As usual…

A Fragment

A Fragment from the beginning of my novel, which I will finish. One day. We are standing on our edges. My edge is always The Bridge over the river, at the mouth of the sea. Arms outstretched, faces to the sky. It may look like we are going to jump. But we’re doing something far…

Mirror Mirror

Mirror Mirror – a short story Martha is a controlling bitch. Unfortunately I only realised this after the tenth week, and by then she had bought me a gift. For my birthday.   ‘You’ll get it on Saturday.’ Martha says while smoothing down her hair in front of the mirror.   ‘Ah, about that…’ I…