Writer of words. Builder of worlds.

Category: Stories and Poems Page 1 of 6

In the Hidden Things

There’s a building that nobody questions. It sits in the middle of the city, squat and grey. Nobody ever has cause to go there, so they don’t, and nobody ever asks why it is there. Sometimes people go in and out, very occasionally, but they are always people you don’t know.

Come and See the Show

Cory and Clarissa turned. ‘Hey Rhys, hurry up!’ 

Rhys caught up. ‘Hurry up,’ he scoffed. ‘You were the ones who left me.’ 

‘Well, the fortune teller might have got us next,’ said Clarissa with a laugh, flicking back her long blonde hair. ‘I didn’t want her grabbing at my palms and warning me of danger.’

Request from a God

We have been here a long time. We don’t remember the beginning, but we were there, in the mix of swirling gases and rock and light. That was us, the light. The energy. The creation.

That is how you should think of us. Think of us like the sun. That ball of heat and light and *power*. That power has to go somewhere, and we put it into shaping the world before us. It started as just another hunk of rock, but we moulded it and added our own touches. Water. Stone. Plants. Animals.

Dream Fragments

I dreamt a floating city froze in time,
I dreamt its brilliance, glory and its shine.
Its glowing stones, its flashing hues so fine,
Yet the city turned to ashes in the light

Theft of the Tome

The thief entered the bookshop carefully. The place was supposed to be heavily defended, as it stored some of the treasures of the kingdom. But there were no guards. The books simply stood upon the shelves, some of them leaning against each other.

The most precious tomes, the ones of magic, stood on the back shelf. The thief sneered. They weren’t locked up. They weren’t even behind glass. What fools.

Where Does It Hurt?

Where does it hurt?
Where should we start?
Below the surface,
down in the dark.

There’s scars in the heart
and cuts in the bone.
Yet the skin remains smooth
and the face appears whole.

Point to the pain?
But the pain’s buried deep.
Far down beneath
where nobody can see.

Where do we start?
How do we heal?
Shine a light in the dark
and lay bare what we feel.

Memories After Death

She opens her eyes to the darkness, and finds that she can see.

Not well, but then there’s not much to see in this cramped wooden box. There is something she has to do, if only she can remember what it is — and who she is. She searches her memories but finds only fragments, slipping away like the last moments of a bad dream.

Time to wake up.

The Space Between Us: A Villanelle

The space between us spans such endless miles
And though I seek to soldier on each day
Without you, all the days ahead are trials

’Twas long ago I first fell for your wiles
And almost just as long you’ve been away
The space between us spans such endless miles

Ghostly Machinations

The ghosts watch me from the shadowy corners of my workroom. I work better unattended. I told them this when we struck our bargain, but they said they would rather I not forget they were here. That I not dismiss our bargain as some dream.

Welcome to Survival

Welcome to Survival, the text adventure game to end all text adventure games!

You are in a bunker. The apocalypse is nigh.

You have: ten companions, a knife, and a fluffy teddy bear.

There is food, water, medicine; enough for a year or more.

What do you wish to do?

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