Reposted from here. He leaves the plastic cutlass sticking out between two pale puckered chickens. The trolley sails further down the meat aisle, plastic glints like surf in the strong supermarket lighting. “Shall I get sausage rolls or cheese and onion ones?” Mum’s shopping for his pirate birthday party. Harry wants an Iron Man party.
Reposted from here. Professor Hundjington sipped his bright pink cocktail on his veranda, watching the car hover up the lengthy driveway. “Jemima, a guest is arriving!” He called over his shoulder, into the house. A tall man in a dark suit stepped out of the car, and opened the rear door. A much shorter man,
Reposted from here. The Fleet ship glided by, curling the edge of the nebula in its wake. Jeffrey waited for five minutes, then switched his engines back on. The sleek, white-spattered black hull eased forward out of the gases, and sped in the opposite direction to the Fleet ship. The Fleet ship noticed, turned, but
Reposted from here. His boots hit the deck with a thud, just in front of my nose. The cutlass landed, point down, quivering in the deck next to them. My heart pounded, my head fuzzy, too exhausted from the fight to move. Then, a hand made itself clear. A scarred, dirty hand, bejewelled and tattooed.
Reposted from here. He’s teasing me. I’m on the verge of begging him to stop. He’s pushing me to my limits. My extremes being found, tested and stretched. He smiles at me, I think he’s enjoying my squirms and winces of pain. The protestations. He’s certainly taking his time. Dragging it out. As if he
Prisoners Honey. They say the smallest sip will have you dreaming for hours. They don’t say what happens whilst you dream. How if you don’t take care you’ll wake up penniless, or worse. They definitely don’t say that after you’ve lost everything you’ll keep on dreaming, because the honey is all you have left. by
Reposted from here. The packs were weighing her down, but she was fleet of foot, and agile of knee. She made it without the loaders seeing her. Why the ship wasn’t carrying anything in these little cubbies she didn’t know, but they could hold hundreds of people during the two week trip, and everyone knew
A fetid bog stretched out for miles in every direction, the only break on the horizon an occasional clump of greenish-black cypress trees that were too far out into the swamp to harvest for timber. Flies buzzed and swarmed, mosquitoes whined and bit, and venomous reptiles lurked under every stone. It was, Richard mused, a
The smiling holiday snap of you in my head has turned to a bruised, tube covered mess. I shouldn’t have come back. Everyone said not to. But I never did listen. It’s been five years. To the day. Five long bloody years. But it gets easier, you know. I still can’t sleep on your side
Reposted from here. Madame Cholet snorts as she talks but I notice her accent isn’t French any more. “Wombling free? Pah! The waste disposal scheme around here stopped all that.” She exhales deeply, stubs out her cigarette and passes me a well worn leaflet. “That’s what can go in the recycling bag. Purple it is.