08.26.10
The girl on the makeshift operating table stares up at me, pleading, her eyes bulging partly through fear and partly because she is trying to scream through a mouthful of gauze. The muffled sound that escapes her is not even loud enough to be heard over the other voices. After I kill her, her voice will join them and I will hear her loud and clear, along with all the others.
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08.19.10
“Now then, chaps.”
“Matt!”
“Well, if it ain’t the Lord of the Winds!”
“Not seen you since you got together with that bird. Was beginning to think you were dead. Or, worse, under the thumb.”
“Give him a break lads, he’s probably just been spending the last few weeks in bed.”
Matt winked at us, tapped the side of his nose, cocked one hip towards us and let out a loud fart. The underage drinkers at the next table stifled giggles while the barmaid, far too fashionable for an establishment like the Pig and Whistle, wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“Business as usual, chaps!” Matt brought his glass up for the customary salute, but the rest of us didn’t follow suit, instead looking at him in horror.
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08.06.10
It was a while before dawn would break; they stood by the small fire, talking quietly so as not to wake those in the neighbouring huts.
“Are you feeling strong?”
“Of course,” she said, rolling her eyes at him. “My strength is not in question here – I would not be eligible to put myself forward to be the next chieftain, otherwise.”
“I know, but…”
“Do not fear, Laurian.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. “My determination will see me through, if nothing else. I cannot allow Telsia to win – her views on the future of our people are worrying, to say the least. Her views on you Enslaved Ones even more so.”
“How did it go with your mother last night?” He raised an eyebrow and she rolled her eyes again.
“As well as can be expected, I suppose.”
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07.29.10
“Mum, I’m taking the fish for a walk.”
“Okay, but be back in time for dinner.”
When Tommy was five years old, his parents had taken him to a Greek island on holiday. His memories of it were rather vague, consisting mainly of sandcastles built and then promptly destroyed in glee, but one incident was still crystal clear in his mind. They had been sitting in a taverna by the harbour, and a boat with two fishermen had moored a few feet from their table. One of the men had jumped to shore carrying a small shark, harpoon still sticking out of it. On seeing Tommy’s eyes widen, the man smiled at him and lowered the fish so he could take a closer look. He still remembered its intense dark eyes, and how smooth it had been to the touch. Read the rest of this entry »
07.23.10
Alethea was the only child of the King of Taunder, but only a handful of people knew of her existence. She had been born with the mark, and thus was so valuable that she had to be kept safe and protected from any bad influence until she came of age. On the eve of this occasion, she sat in her apartment in the tall tower at the west end of the castle, undecided as to how she felt about the new life she was about to lead, come the morning. She glanced around at the plush prison she had been confined in since birth. She would be free of it soon enough, but at what cost? Her father was going to auction her off to the highest bidder, and she would be forced to marry a man she had never even seen a likeness of.
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07.20.10
Jon Strother, founding father of #FridayFlash, has made me blush with pride by bestowing the Fabulous Flash Award to me.
I’ve found it unbelievably hard to pick just four people out of a huge list of great flash writers, as I can see everyone else did who’s been spreading the award around so far!
Well, here we go, in no particular order:
Virginia Moffatt posts stories to her blog A Room of my Own
Her writing is always good, and she always gives the reader a clear and thoughtful picture of the human condition
Tony Noland can be found at Landless
He is a shameless genre-flitter who is not afraid to experiment
Sam Adamson is over at Future; Nostalgic
A sweet humour purveys most of his work – the subtle kind that keeps the smile on the reader’s face for a good while
Carrie Clevenger has her lair at Mindspeak
She takes you to dark, dark places, but oh so enchantingly so
07.15.10
Albert walked up to the funeral parlour feeling happier than he had in a long time. For the last few years he had been performing his mortician duties listlessly, but today he felt that he had a purpose. He was about to enter using the front door, when he saw that the funeral director was in the reception area with clients. He decided to access the mortuary via the side entrance; since the death of his daughter four years previously, his presence made clients uncomfortable. Affronted by this at first, Albert had soon come to realise how his countenance might be upsetting to them. Grief had made him so gaunt that it seemed his skull was only covered by a paper-thin layer of skin. He understood how the prominent cheekbones and the sunken, dark-ringed eyes might perhaps be too reminiscent of the Reaper himself to the recently bereaved.
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07.08.10
The child must die. You have been appointed to kill it.
The words echoed in his head as he ran through the forest to where he held the woman captive. The kidnapping had been neither easy nor well performed, but for now only the end result mattered. She was his prisoner, and would remain so until after she died in childbirth — no woman had ever carried to term such progeny and lived.
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06.11.10
He is gone, and I am bereft. Danny has been by my side for what seems like my entire life, and today I had to watch him being lowered into the ground, my heart sinking down with him. I had to sleep in the guest bedroom last night – better to wake up wondering where I am rather than where he is. Danny’s brother Tom, who has come over from Whitby to make the arrangements, understood immediately, and made up the bed in the main bedroom for himself.
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06.04.10
The sun has only been up for an hour or two and already it is bright enough to hurt my eyes. Well, one of my eyes I should say – the other is swollen shut. I am feeling hotter by the minute, as the rocks absorb every ray of sunlight and blast it back out in all directions. All I can see, at least as far as I am able to turn my head, is rock. White colours mixed with light, reddish brown hues come to an abrupt halt at the top of the rockface, where the cloudless Mediterranean sky takes over and wraps me up in a bubble from which there is no escape.
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