The Honourably Fictional Reader

Dear Honourably Fictional Reader, Welcome to the island of misfit toys Home of the heavenly hell-bent Dump for all the good girls and boys Who never found out where you went. . Take a left at the curb of puberty, Go straight and narrow when you hit the alcohol and drugs; Then you’ll hit counselling,…

You’re In The City

I walked along the city’s wrist Crossed a vein Nearly run over by a honking blood cell I wonder what we did, To wind up in this diabetic hell. . Her bony fingers scrape the sky Clawing at heaven But it’s all to no avail I wonder what she did; To become so grey and…

Fire, Part IV: Wildfire

Rupert stares at the box that is arrogant enough to think it can contain him for the next 24 hours. Please. Even if he hadn’t cleaned all the evidence from the house, he has a sparkling reputation at work to back him up- mindless worker drones who will instantly back him up, simply because they…

Fire: Part III, The Spark

TWO YEARS LATER: Kingstone’s father didn’t get jolly after a drink or two. He got fucking pissed. She remembered the bruises on her mother that she didn’t understand, and she remembered the night her father left. It wasn’t like in the movies, with a huge fight and breaking glass and raining hard outside- it was…

The Victorian Gothic

So, in honour of Charlotte Bronte’s unbirthday (shut up, they’re totally a thing and it’s not just an excuse to better understand Jane Eyre), we’re having a look at the conventions of the Victorian Gothic this week. But before we can look specifically at the Victorian Gothic genre, let’s get some things straight about the…

Fire- Part II: Hearth

The apartment was quiet. It was always quiet on a working day like today, when Sean and James were out doing who-knows-what, who-knows-where. Solving mysteries and shooting the bad guys and getting shot at, it assumed. As always, it was a relief when the twin footsteps were heard shuffling down the corridor, towards number 229….

Fire, Part I- The Kindling

A dingy, trashed mess of a place- the bar was its usual self. But, it had alcohol. Rupert liked that. He held up his fingers at the barman, who nodded and gave him a glass of blood-red wine, leaving the bottle on the bar while Rupert paid and twisted on his stool to survey the…

Coffee Sonnet 3

Look in thy mug and tell the face thou viewest Now is the time one exam should form fast repent, Whose fresh questions shit-storm with each passing crest But coffee doth beguile the world, bless’d be; heaven-sent. For where is tea so fair whose sub-caffinated depth Disdains the brains of poor pupils wracked with sleep-loss?…

Wrath

Well, thought Simon, looking down at the glistening blade in his hand; I guess I am a murderer after all.  He quickly stalked through the corn field. His boots squelched in the mud and he came back to the side of the road where the bodies had been. He slipped the blade into his back…

Windows to the Soul

(Inspired by the image by the beautiful Maggie Chang. Story is all mine, Image is all hers.) The eyes are the windows to the soul. That’s what the old saying tells us, right? That’s why I’m stood here, on the circumference of his pupil, looking up at the infinity of his iris, an aurora borealis…

Simon’s Halloween

It was a wonderful night for it. That is- dying. It was the kind of night that begged to be left alone, and yet would not be laid to rest. The street was more quiet than the others- that was why Simon had chosen to walk down it. He wasn’t the kind of man to…

Coffee Sonnet 2

When forty exams shall besiege me now, And dig deep trenches in my youth’s field, My mind’s proud addiction will harken now, Coffee will save my grades, my mind will yield! Then being asked questions I know not, My mind shall know all this treasure and more, And I may yet pass and show how…