Ryan pulled at the drawstrings of his hoody, tightening it around his face to protect from the wind and the drizzle. Ahead he could see the drawbridge was just about to complete its lowering, having been risen for a passing freighter. The lights turned green and the traffic continued across the bridge, their wheels splashing … Continue reading The Crossing
Tag: Dystopian
Perchance to Dream
It first happened on the 7:15 to Paddington. I was in a trance due to a severe lack of sleep; caused not by a rock n’ roll lifestyle, but years of engrained insomnia. As the rhythm of the train pulled me along through the city landscape, with the crowds of people and streams of cars, … Continue reading Perchance to Dream
The Storyteller
Sunlight flooded in through the floor to ceiling windows, picking out floating flecks of dust. Stacks of ragged books towered above him, blocking out the light and casting the paper into shadow. He looked up as the sun began to lower in the sky, thirty minutes, maybe 35 he mumbled. He scribbled furiously, the ink … Continue reading The Storyteller
Early Learning
Leanne and John propped themselves up against a bank of pillows, as morning light streamed in through the windows. John read from a paper, while Leanne rested a tablet against her pregnant belly. ‘Here it is,’ she said, gently nudging him and nodding down to the tablet, ‘we simply have to get one, darling’. John … Continue reading Early Learning
Snow Angels – Pt 1.
As Cormac drew level with the entrance to the psychiatric hospital he slammed on the brake and almost head-butted the steering wheel. He opened the door and stumbled out of the car, smashing his elbow on the edge of the door and landing hard on his knees. ‘Fuck it’ he muttered as he got up … Continue reading Snow Angels – Pt 1.
Birdsong
Robert Stroud a.k.a The Birdman of Alcatraz - did you ever wonder why he caught that first bird? Why he risked punishment and solitary to breed them? It wasn’t because he was lonely, it wasn’t that he was bored, it was because of the silence. Alcatraz was a dead zone for birds, no scraps, no … Continue reading Birdsong
72973
She lay on her side up against the cold stone wall of the bothy; the wind howling just above her head through the glassless window. It swirled around the room and found gaps in the blankets. She adjusted them, but it made no difference as the cold weaved through the fabric. It started raining hard … Continue reading 72973
Minimal Prose 