Thom @MrMoth

Sunrise, a ROSE story by @MrMoth

Reposted from here: We pushed through on the dawn, ragged banners tilting skyward as the sun’s dust punched holes in our eyes and set our clothes ablaze in gold. At that moment we could go no further, feet tangled in long grass taking root as our minds set out branches with fat, flat leaves to catch

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The Glass Doors, a CABINET story by @MrMoth

Reposted from here. I remember my Grandmother’s cabinet. Glass-fronted, each panel etched with a complex pattern of flowers and leaves that never quite seemed to match your memory. I had favourite knot-whorls in the surface of my Grandmother’s table, I had the grain of the brushstrokes in the paint on the walls of her bathroom

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Getting Home, a “WHIMTER” entry by @ManOnThe100

Reposted from here. Wind billows Rain grey Through London streets Chasing umbrellas Making fools. Slush, silent, Hushed, silence. Devoted heads bowed Waking early Working late. Dark day turns over, Dark night Unnoticed, ice sparkles. A dream of frost. Jack leaps. On gentle winds Now Christmas, Delicately through the streets, Stretches fingers Touches down. The snow

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Tube Chat, a MIRROR story by @MrMoth

Reposted from here. The person opposite looks nervous. It’s not a ram-packed Tube carriage, but there are plenty of people here. That should mean it’s safe, but no. I am wearing a “Tube Chat?” badge, and in so doing have become the physical manifestation of urban ennui. Talk to me, stranger. Chat. Come out of

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Catch!, a CATCH story by @MrMoth

The steam rolled forward, boiling everything in its path. The sea had risen from its ages-old bed in a hissing fury, a white hot cloud filled with the flash-cooked catch of the day. The land was scoured; every living thing extinguished on contact, every object melted, twisted, burned, collapsed. This was an extinction. Nothing in

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Airsphere Comms, a DIRIGIBLE story by @MrMoth

Reposted from here. Felmohsa-Randit Shelbros dam Leyostaam was new. She had arrived in the airsphere as a student just three or four months ago and neither of the two resident professors had any idea what, exactly, she was supposed to be studying. Certainly the dirigible behemothaurs had much to teach them, but she seemed less

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On The Train, a TRAIN story by Thom @MrMoth

Reposted from here. We were in the tunnel when they blocked it. Perhaps they knew we were in there as they set the charges, perhaps they did not. Someone must have seen the train go in at one end or the other but both sides decided to detonate at the same time, and schedules are

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Untitled

Reposted from here. He bites down and it tastes of wolves, jaws clashing in the deep of the woods, it tastes of soured milk spilled carelessly across stone, it tastes of the copper-coin heave-inducing flatness of his own blood. He bites down, pressing his teeth together, feeling them meet in the middle. Harder, and his

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Seed Money, a SEED story by Thom @MrMoth

Reposted from here. Seed money, he called it. The few coins tossed into the violin case at the start of the day. No, the viola case. He would always correct me on that, and eventually it became our joke. How’s the violin practice going? It’s a viola, and I need as much practice as you

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