Just a quick note that this is a horror short. - Two reels turn slowly as the tape opens and is pulled against the tapehead, white and black static flickering into life on the screen as the ripple of electricity interferes with the picture for a moment. It’s faded at first. Like seafoam and oil … Continue reading Source Decay
Tag: short story
The Three Accountants
‘You’ve fallen down then?’ In the dreary grim of a fog laden cemetery, two strangers gazed into the gloom and thought on matters of elevation.It was still.Lowly bowed conifers lilt wearily with dew as a breathless-air coils through branches timorous and cold. It was a furtive kind of nightfall. Where lithe shadows slip silkily between … Continue reading The Three Accountants
Polis, A Winter’s Night in Dreaming
It was cold in the city.Traffic of blunt yellows and reddened bitumen lay halted in stuttering cacophony as another arc of muddy sunlight glowered above the smog laden sky of Polis.Dissatisfied pigeons, all mottled and grey, roosted upon their chilly ledges and dumbly pecked at a reflection of themselves, rapping staccato upon the glass and … Continue reading Polis, A Winter’s Night in Dreaming
A Bass Rolling Down a Hill
‘Well then.’ Ash mumbled to the sight of her freely falling double bass and the confluence of varied emotion that tumbled away alongside it.Anger, a primary colour in the blind-patchwork quilt of her feelings, bubbled and broiled in forefront. Every hour of today, wasted. Every minute that she had spent lugging that impossible instrument up … Continue reading A Bass Rolling Down a Hill
Blasting to Nowhere
'Blast! I seem to have ruined my trousers.' Deep within the tangled wires of a laboratory under renovation, the interminably perturbed Dr Bertram Everbridge shook the mangled scraps of fabric from his right ankle begun counting his toes as a matter of precaution. ‘Five on the left, five on the right. Even as a matchbox.’ … Continue reading Blasting to Nowhere
On Making Friends While Running
I’ve started running. As a person who considers themselves unfit for the trials of a stairwell--let alone actual exercise--the meek slouch of my aching shoulders had leant me forward as I collapsed into the embrace of a thicket, the wet leaflitter therein feeling somewhat cooling against my side.Of cardio, I am an amateur, and for … Continue reading On Making Friends While Running
TimeSure
Blue light scattered across the floor of a carpet so trampled of forgotten dust that the original colour be best assumed without basis. It was a saturated light, one that did little to give form to any of the objects that it was cast across; rather, giving them allusion of objects, the faint outline of … Continue reading TimeSure
🧹 A Bog Witch
Drella was a bog witch. Across the span of two decades, Drella had double, double toiled and troubled her way into becoming quite competent at bog witchery and couldn’t help but feel disconsolate when her life was boiled down into nothing more than hocus pocus. For a bog witch, there were many presumptions that were … Continue reading 🧹 A Bog Witch
A Forest Story
You awake to the call of birds. Dawn, still yet to rise beyond the distant hills, holds the forest in a state of darkness as the din of frantic movement appears to become alive outside the walls of your shelter. Bows of ancient oak thrash at the sides of your home and you feel the … Continue reading A Forest Story
An Attic Story
The attic was quiet. Night had long slumbered peacefully throughout this silent kingdom. And in its darkness, an archive of passing time had been left undated. Thin slats of light and dampened noise could seldom be observed from below, as dreams of a time spent in movement would become fragmented and obscure. It was peaceful … Continue reading An Attic Story
Sunday Short Stories 