Writer of words. Builder of worlds.

Category: Short Stories Page 1 of 3

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.

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.

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.

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?

Uncle Stanley’s Facebook

We got home from the funeral and there was a Facebook post from Uncle Stanley. Whose funeral we had just come from. The post read, Thanks for coming to my funeral. Really enjoyed the music.

Returning Home

Blue fire burns in my hand and I know I have the magic again. After all this time, hiking across the barren desert, watching those sent with me die along the way.

Well. We can fix that.

Danger

They say it’s dangerous to live near the forest where the elves are. They say the elves rob and kill unwary travellers, that they steal children and replace them with their own. I know that’s not so. I live near the forest and the elves are safe.

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