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Short story — a young woman is kidnapped and forced to lead a life of no control — It was around 1:00 am. I had spent the evening with a close friend. She had finally bought a house of her own, a quaint cottage on the outskirts of our hometown, hidden behind a plethora of trees and stretches of overgrown fields. She’d always desired a quieter life, and…

Flash Fiction — ‘Please. Please, just –‘ Clara’s labored breath caught in her throat. Her skin was pallid, twisting, stretching thin upon an already fragile frame. She took my hand in hers, a clammy, loose grip, and I stared deep into those frightened eyes as she whispered, ‘I don’t want to die.’ ‘Hush…

I like to write in the quiet of the night, on the cusp of late eve and early morn, when my fellow man has laid down his head, and the world breathes through a yawn. In the hush of the dark, the mind seems to breathe, letting go of all worries…

Does the guilt not consume you? Mine has corroded war-torn armour, left me shell-shocked in the wake, shots fired from five years old, those early memories become a plague, a defining moment, poignant in post, sleepless nights are haunted by the silliest missteps, the face of the disappointed, too young to mask emotion, too tired to realise her daughter wonders if…

It’s a funny experience, being put under. You’re not supposed to know what’s happening, it’s supposed to be for your benefit. It removes the pain, the trauma of hanging on as your body declines, of seeing and feeling and hearing as the pipes are put in place, as you’re sliced…

There is a limit to suppression, to the resentment swallowed deep, my dear, you pushed me far too hard, bitterness begins to seep. I don’t need solutions, an ear lent could calm the tide, I don’t want you to fix my problems, but a safe place to confide. But ‘talk…

The spirit said to me, ‘We do not care for you, we who lived so long ago, we still have much to do,’ and as she floated upwards not a moment did she pause, for she had much to deal with, struggles from an immortal cause. So serene was she, a…

Poetry Prompt Response — A golden haze cuts a path, honey-sweet, burning radiance unprotected, grazing blue water, dancing on the jungle's edge, she does not need direction, across the bridge, from paradise to paradise more, oh, to bathe in the sun for just a moment, before the shade may cool her, before the water soothes her, let heaven dance upon her skin…

Morbid Curiosity #12 — On my late night Reddit dwellings I came across a post on r/oddlyterrifying (no surprise that I’m subscribed to there) about a carp with a human face. The low res video featured a carp slowly approaching the edge of the water. As it comes into view of the camera and…