A small break in the relentless drizzle allowed a spear of sunlight through, splintering on the rain-lashed carriage window. If it hadn't been for that brief scintillation rousing him from his melancholy, he would have missed her. Emily was, like him, alone and preoccupied. And as beautiful as she had always been.
He watched as the locomotive started to move, taking her away from him again. He couldn't follow; the cold stone of the platform anchored his spirit, and she was unable to perceive him in any case.
The clouds of steam billowed, more substantial than he would ever be.
Sunday 24 November 2013
Sunday 17 November 2013
Arena
A sudden sprint, crouch just so, leap into an inverted pirouette, and voila! Deft hands found their mark - a double slap that blurred into one motion. Her opponent slumped and the crowd roared their appreciation. Unbelievable! She was the underdog; money changed hands frantically.
Turn, tuck-jump over the clumsy battering-ram of its arm swung blindly behind it, and then a series of gouging, twisting knuckles up its back. The huge form went prostrate, its groan a rich bass that reverberated through the wildly-cheering spectators.
The fight of the year: the Combat Masseuse versus The Stone Golem . . . and they were there!
_____________________________________
[Thanks to Tim Whitten for the idea.]
Turn, tuck-jump over the clumsy battering-ram of its arm swung blindly behind it, and then a series of gouging, twisting knuckles up its back. The huge form went prostrate, its groan a rich bass that reverberated through the wildly-cheering spectators.
The fight of the year: the Combat Masseuse versus The Stone Golem . . . and they were there!
_____________________________________
[Thanks to Tim Whitten for the idea.]
Sunday 10 November 2013
Inchoate Love
As he glances in her direction she looks away quickly, her eyes hiding behind the swirl of black hair. She has gazed at him for too long again, and curses herself.
Wait.
She bites her lip, summoning courage, and peeks out gingerly. He isn't watching. His hangers-on - all girls, of course - have finally gone.
Deep breath.
Move.
He turns to look at her as she reaches him, a quizzical half-smile lighting his face. The knife enters his chest more easily than she expects, sliding between his ribs and opening his heart.
She marvels as those beautiful eyes turn to glass.
Wait.
She bites her lip, summoning courage, and peeks out gingerly. He isn't watching. His hangers-on - all girls, of course - have finally gone.
Deep breath.
Move.
He turns to look at her as she reaches him, a quizzical half-smile lighting his face. The knife enters his chest more easily than she expects, sliding between his ribs and opening his heart.
She marvels as those beautiful eyes turn to glass.
Sunday 3 November 2013
Solitary Confinement
Blackness. Silence. I can’t feel anything either. Or move. So - they think that mere sensory deprivation will break me? My resolve far outstrips theirs. We’ll see who lasts the longest...
Bill paused in his cleaning, right by the heavy door that was always locked. Except, today it wasn’t. He’d always wondered what lay behind it, the ominous sign stating ‘Indefinite Detention’ serving only to pique his curiosity.
Daringly, he peeked into the chamber. The sight of rows of glass cylinders containing fluid and, clearly, human brains bristling with wires sent him hastily away. After all, curiosity could kill the cat.
* * *
Bill paused in his cleaning, right by the heavy door that was always locked. Except, today it wasn’t. He’d always wondered what lay behind it, the ominous sign stating ‘Indefinite Detention’ serving only to pique his curiosity.
Daringly, he peeked into the chamber. The sight of rows of glass cylinders containing fluid and, clearly, human brains bristling with wires sent him hastily away. After all, curiosity could kill the cat.
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