His hair was ink black. It moved like a feather in the water and clung in tufts when it hit the air. I sat with my feet in the pool, flicking my cigarette ash into the aqua blue, watching…
Bloom.
This time he bought me roses. Their razor thorns grazed his face when I cracked them across his skull. They swung so smoothly through the air, whistling as they went.
Doing what you love on International Women’s Day | A short story
Today we celebrate the ladies. And to honour International Women’s Day I am paying attention to myself, or more importantly, the reason I was put on this crazy little planet. Because it’s easy as a creative to get caught up in…
72.
72. Pink pout. Shade number 72. Cherry dreams. You’d sit beside the pool, sunshine rays, soaking up the rosy while you swallowed every drop.
Literary Lion. Fa La La La La.
Our glamorous little feline friend has had his nose in the sherry, and so he will be back for more prompts and short stories in 2016. Thank you to everyone who has taken part in the challenge so far, we shall…
Ice Ice Baby.
Frozen. I’d never found courage enough to do it before. I sat with my back against the window for the first time. The subtle sound of stepping feet came first. Then the silhouette in my peripheral. Then followed the…
Step Away.
Step Away. I looked straight ahead. All I could see were the leaves whispering in the trees at the bottom of the ravine. His shadow lumbered into my peripheral. I felt the heat of his body as he eased…
Baked.
Baked. The sun crackled, singeing her skin. She drank in the heat, letting it hit the depths of her lungs as it enveloped her, invading her body with its stifling smother. She opened one eye and saw her feathery…
The Hemingway Day. Move.
I am back from my little Spanish jaunt and now I find myself amidst a sea of boxes as the boy and I prepare for a little change of scenery. This week’s WordPress photo challenge is of change, and the…
Tumble.
Tumble. Every week he would arm me with the same headphones and a new track of calming. The voice would resonate within my ear, encasing all air beneath the padded earpiece as it commanded, twisting feathery wisps along my…
I see you.
Lunchtime. It was burning my mouth much more than usual. Its flame whispered through the gaps above my gums and swam along the back of my tongue until it hit the tip of my oesophagus and stained my tonsils…
Happy Feet.
The Audition. The red door stood stark against a street of black counterparts. It was the exact shade of the virtual lipstick signature that sat at the end of the email she’d sent. She called herself Darling. I leant…
