“Below is a short excerpt of the Balendup Oval local tennis tournament, originally broadcast on the nineteenth of September (1991) by Balendup AM. As all AM broadcasts are legally mandated to be recorded by a stenographer, we are able to present this now declassified document in its original format without further context. -Mel Harris, the … Continue reading 🎾 The Balendup Open
Tag: creative writing
Morning’s Reflection
Rain pelleted against the window as amber lights sketched the line of a city beyond the salt flats. One by one the lights dimmed, the horizon and solemn ground becoming endless in their opaque seam. Crackling, the receiving station’s radio scanned into a home channel, half-static cruelling whatever vinyl-scratched music the operator had chosen to … Continue reading Morning’s Reflection
Turbine West: Part 4
'You don't talk much do you?' Garen smiled kindly with his yellow teeth and gestured toward the apprentice with a casual wave, 'Don't think that you need to though, people talk too much, listen too little. I think you'll be a quick learner if the fumes don't get to you.'Placing a pair of wire glasses … Continue reading Turbine West: Part 4
The Prelude of a Flying Apricot: The Merry Doctor Part 1
'There's not a lot I can do if you didn't bring the, um-and-a, finger with you.' I remember it as one of those particularly cold mornings when the Port winds would whistle through cracks and creep coldly under doorframes--making not wearing socks particularly unbearable--when a pallid looking gentleman had wandered into my office and greeted … Continue reading The Prelude of a Flying Apricot: The Merry Doctor Part 1
Turbine West: Part 3
'The boiler's at over temperature.' The thin voice of an electrician was barely audible over the alarm that had sent the workers of nervous disposition running for the fire escape and enticed the more interested bystanders from the lunchroom. 'It's a boiler, they're supposed to be hot.' Helma shouted back with obstinance, her presence looming … Continue reading Turbine West: Part 3
Turbine West: Part 2
The world was fathomless. Like a cork dropped into an ocean of utter impossibility the apprentice felt encompassed by the sheer distance of the world around them. Noise, unparalleled by any beast or nightmare, roared above them in a headstrong wind as a single cloud drew close enough to pass over the Turbine but was … Continue reading Turbine West: Part 2
The Prelude of a Flying Apricot: Voiceless Part 2
As the eyes of guardsmen and thief alike fell upon me, I knew that it was time to run.Melting snow became slick underfoot in the quiet of Autumn, and the lingering ships still left in Liat’s frozen port were all preparing to venture southward, moving weakly before their sails became too heavy to hoist. It … Continue reading The Prelude of a Flying Apricot: Voiceless Part 2
Complaints Department
In an office of executive minimalism, painted to be holistically awash with an abundance of cooperate grey, a single telephone rang fourteen times before it was answered. 'Welcome to the complaints department, how may I help you?' 'He-hello? Complaints?' 'Yes, my dear parrot, you are coming through quite clearly and with excellent resonance. Now, to … Continue reading Complaints Department
The Urn That Took on Dust
The Urn That Took On Dust. A short story about loss and dedicated to Edgar Allan Poe. Part of Spookytober scary stories
Sunday Short Stories 