Sunday, 28 August 2011

Race For Life




This war began long ago, yet still I fight with comrades at my side. No thoughts of withdrawal, our thirst for victory drives us forever forward. Some try to take over, but we have dark methods for those.

We had leaders before, all denounced and rotting in the darkness now. We keep the spirits aflame with stories of lost battles. Of suffocations, chemical warfare and bayonets stabbing away life.

My comrades are weak. I’ll abandon them and swim faster, I’ll break through the walls and win this war alone.

I will be victorious.

I will impregnate.

I will be fertile.



Friday, 26 August 2011

Amongst the Birds



It was a broken gun, plastic trigger and gold painted bullets. I picked it up and pointed it at the sparrows in the garden. Bang! But the birds didn’t fall from the trees. I began to long for a tree house then. Like daddy had promised before he drowned in the Big C.

My mother told me I lived in my own little world. I watched the starlings bully away the sparrows from the steamed up kitchen window. She placed a bowl of chicken soup on the table and told me to eat up. The spoon felt like an icicle between my fingers. The blanket dropped from my shoulders onto the cold linoleum.

I watched the starlings and wondered if they could make a soup to take away my cold. Outside the road sweeper picked up the broken gun and tossed it into his cart. The soup was thick and made me sleepy. Mother picked up the candlewick blanket and wrapped me like a babe, carried me to bed and tucked me in tight. I felt imprisoned in comfort.

I didn’t dream that afternoon but floated amongst the birds and the trees. I was a diving finch darting between branches and telephone wires. Blackbirds huffed at my arrogance and whispered to the magpies that I was a young upstart. I chirped and laughed before waking. I was sweating in the darkness. The covers tangled around me, twisted like cherry Twizzlers. I fought against the cotton and won my freedom.

I wrapped up in my robe and crept out to the garden, crushing mother’s rose bushes beneath my bare feet. The thorns drew no blood. The birds were silent in the silhouette tree like a paper cut-out against the hunter’s moon. I thought about climbing and flying from the highest branch.

Mother ran through the kitchen doors screaming, dragging me down, my fingernails scraped the bark. In the morning my fever was gone. A gift at the end of my bed, unwrapped but such a beautiful sight. A brand new plastic gun with gold painted bullets. My tree house remained unbuilt.


Friday, 19 August 2011

I Second That Prediction.


My Friday Flash for last week at Lily Childs Feardom came back to me with a lovely runner up spot clenched between its hands. I'm really happy about this as I've posted on here before, the competition over there is very tough. The top spot was claimed by the beuatiufilly haunting 'Resurrection' by AJ Humpage. Who's brilliant writing blog can be found here- http://ajhumpage.blogspot./com

As usual the rules were use three chosen word, last week-


Legionnaire
Scry
Envelope 


These words had to be used in a story of no more than 100 words. Most tales are dark ranging from horror, urban thrillers and poetic legends. Please pop over and read old and new stories. If you have a moment see if you too can enter the dark world of The Prediction and become a winner with words. Here's my runner up entry, an urban fairy tale thriller.

                                         ---------------------------------------------------------





Like souls that balance joy and pain,
With tears and smiles from heaven again
The maiden Spring upon the plain
Came in a sun-lit fall of rain.
In crystal vapour everywhere.
                                        'Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinevere', 

                                                                 Alfred Lord Tennyson








In Crystal Vapours.




Jess looked across the water toward The Castle. As a child she’d imagined it full of princesses. Now at twenty all fantasy had been diluted. 

The Castle housing estate was a ruin of more than her dreams. A place where girls called Jessica are raped as people walk by digs turrets into the soul.

She dropped her gaze. A scry of death and chaos rippled below her. 

She opened the envelope. Suicide is painless, she thought before emptying it into the reservoir she once called The Moat.

She walked away laughing. Killing the bastards with Legionnaires' is much more fun.










Friday, 5 August 2011

I Saw Your Blog. Now I'm a Be-Liebster.








And The Liebster Blog Award Goes To...


I received a message from the wonderfully terrifying mind of Steven Chapman. It was covered in blood and still attached to a severed zombie hand. After climbing over my initial resentment like an arachnophobe escaping through cobwebbed cellar walls I took the message and read it.

Turns out it was a nice thing. He's only gone and nominated me for a blogger award called The Liebster Blog Award. It's aim is to showcase amazing bloggers who just happen to have fewer than 200 followers. Hopefully you’ll all visit the blogs I'll suggest and follow them. Because to be honest they are worth visiting on a regular basis like returning to the salad bar at Pizza Hut to fill up on  free food when your mates have eaten all the XL Vegetarian Hot One while you went to the toilet. Also I only ever give recommendations I truly believe in.


And now for the rules bit:

1. Thank the giver and link back to the blogger who gave it to you.
2. Reveal your top 5 picks and let them know by leaving a comment on their blog.
3. Copy and paste the award on your blog.
4. Have faith that your followers will spread the love to other bloggers.
5. And most of all - have bloggity-blog fun!


I'd like to thank my mum and dad, my high school blog teacher, Father Google at Blogger Summer Camp for making me believe in myself, "Thanks father. The little fat kid finally made it whooo!"
I’d also like the thank the Big Man upstairs. That's right Big Bone Barry who lives in the flast above and let's me borrow his Wi-Fi connection.

Mostly though... "Hey can we dim the lights and have a spot over there? Cheers." I'd like to thank Steven Chapman the man who made this all possible. So thanks man. Stephen is a fantastic writer you need to check out. I know before long he'll have to veto people who join his blog because his book will attract many crazy zombies hungry for that twisted brain of his. So stop reading this waffle and jump over to his blog. No wait I have my own nominations so stick around for one more informative minute.

The nominations as chosen by the academy are as follows.."What? Oh yeah." The nominations as chosen by me who has no association with the Oscars but really feel I deserve one because my mum said I did are as follows...




Cyberschizoid Cult Entertainment Horror Blog

Home of Richard Gladman the mad genius behind The Classic Horror Campaign. You only have to take a quick look at Cyberschizoid to appreciate why the man has such passion to return classic horror back to our TV screens. His obvious love for the genre oozes from this brilliant blog. He covers it all from the films we love to the films we've never heard of, to horror magazines, conventions, screenings and anything else worth knowing.



The Queen of the darkness, twister of words and mother of mythology. Lily not only has a great blog that showcases her unique talent, as displayed in her Kindle series 'Magenta Shaman', she also runs a weekly flash fiction competition that attracts some of the darkest writers around the world in one place. Lily's blog is always a first stop for some of the best writers across the planet. 



Jodi describes her writing as, 'Omnivorous fiction favoring fable, suburban punk, pulp, horror, and bizarro.' I say she's one of the most promising voices in fiction right now. Oh and let's not forget those devilish pirates!



There's nothing he doesn't know about your classic, your new and your so bad they are brilliant horror films. His take on the industry and the history of the genre is a revelation. Check him out and boost his following.




Angel Zapata's (of Rage of Angel)  home to the strangely addictive flash format. Five sentences, five words in each and that's your story. Two issues released already and I hear a third on the way soon. So pop over, follow, enjoy and submit. This magazine is staring to attract some very prestigious writers and a cult following to boot.


So once again thanks to Steven for awarding this and for passing it on. I hope you manage to take a look at all the blogs and follow them all too. And remember being eaten by zombies, bitten by vamps, scared to death by ghosts and ridden by a hairy werewolf is very rare, so please, don't have nightmares.


Thursday, 4 August 2011

Sundae Girl.



"I didn’t mean it Honey." 

She tossed the gun onto the bed. A small heart shaped burn mark appeared on the cover. I looked up from the floor of the hotel room and watched her eyes playing Ping-Pong against the walls.

"Sure you didn’t. Now hand me…" I coughed up a speech bubble of blood onto the carpet at the side of my head. "Hand me the phone will’ya baby."

She looked at the smashed Nokia before flinging the hotel receiver at me like a second assault.

"Don’t be callin’ no cops you hear me." I had no doubt about her threat.

"Hello operator could you get me the," I looked up and saw her stiletto hovering an inch above my eye. "Could you get me room service?"

She smiled. Lipstick smudged like a sliced grin across her cheek. Black icicles fell from her tear stained eyes.


"I know this may sound odd but my wife is pregnant and was wandering," her smile faded, I adjusted my tone. "No she demands a giant bowl of banana jelly. Yes you’re right that is quite a normal request. Only she wants it covered with corned beef ice cream and mayonnaise."

I went to hang up the receiver before adding, "And please ask them to hurry. There’s a big tip in it."

She sat on the bed rubbing her belly with the warm gun and smiled. I couldn’t wait to be a father.



Horror in all its forms. Ghosts to monsters, books to films, reviews, interviews and the occasional story or two.

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