Flash Fiction Friday

#flashfictionfriday 16

It shouldn’t have been hard to miss, but Jeremy still managed.

The garish rug stretched across the department store floor, covering the power cord for the string of lights coiled around the Christmas Tree.

“Didn’t you see the sign?” The shop attendant asked, pointing to the A4 cartridge paper stuck to the wall, emblazoned with the words WATCH YOUR STEP in bold Ariel font.

Jeremy gathered himself up off the floor. He eyed the girl in the festive elf dress behind the counter as he dusted imaginary dirt from his ugly sweater.

“I’ve always been pretty good at falling over things most people don’t,” Jeremy said.

“Strange thing to be proud of,” the elf girl said with a shrug. Her name tag read ‘Bianca’.

“We all have our talents.”

Gardens of War & Wasteland, Other

welcome to whyt’hallen 03: archive – the sickness

Before the mortal Second Born crossed the Azure Expanse and came to settle in Whyt’Hallen, they had an established civilisation of their own back on the continent of Mey.

For a thousand years the native Meytarans thrived, raising kingdoms and cities and culture. Their growth seemed limitless … until the Sickness came.

Continue reading “welcome to whyt’hallen 03: archive – the sickness”
Flash Fiction Friday

#flashfictionfriday 15

Blood splashed on the white sheet I’d thrown over my head in a last minute costume. A few drops, nothing major, but I’d still need to find a way to bleach it out before putting it back on the bed at Grandma’s.

My little sister stared at me, mouth agape in comical disbelief. She was fourteen now, and I half-expected her to be ‘too cool’ to go trick-or-treating this year, but the annual outing was something we enjoyed religiously with our parents and apparently she wasn’t ready to give that up yet.

I blinked, unmoving, as I regarded the middle-aged man clutching his bloodied nose. My sister’s boyfriend promptly dropped her hand to go check on his father.

‘Jesus, Merlinda!‘ My sister shrieked. Guess I ruined her date.

‘He was touching my arse!’ I shouted back.

‘I was brushing dirt off your costume!’ The man whimpered in defence.

I looked over my shoulder. Several dried autumn leaves clung to the sheet over my bum where I’d sat in the garden waiting for my sister to finish collecting her treats from a friend’s house.

‘Sorry,’ I mumbled. The shrug was half-hearted—I’d been groped by far too many Casper the Pervy Ghosts at uni Halloween parties to feel truly apologetic.

Short Stories

at the stroke of midnight

It smelt like every other library, though it was certainly different after dark. The perfume from the books was stronger at night, sweeter and more pungent, made all the more noticeable by the lingering whiff of coffee.

Mila stumbled behind the others, torch in hand. Andrik led their little group through the shelves, all the while whispering in Tao’s ear. Tao let out a muffled laugh and Mila scoffed; her brother wasn’t that funny.

Continue reading “at the stroke of midnight”