Taking in the man’s wide eyes and pale face, and adding it to the message she’d just received, Audrey felt her blood run cold. ‘Oh, please, no.’ She thought. ‘Please don’t let it be Sarah.’
**********************************
TRIGGER WARNING: Suicidal Ideation, Torture
The window was always closed.
These are my responses to the writing exercises from our tenth Writing Apocalypse lecture.
TRIGGER WARNING: Child death; car accident.
Your feet sting from the residue of bindies and the heat of the concrete stairs. You sweep the path as quietly as possible, hoping to avoid the attention of the Alsation next door.
When I was a kid there were parks and forests. Suburbs with whole streets lined with trees.
After all these years, I still miss her.
I got so caught up in my history assignment yesterday that I completely forgot about blogging. As an apology, I am posting twice today. This is my second post.
************************************
Trigger Warning: Disturbing content involving sexual assault of a minor!
*********************************
When I was thirteen, my guardian – cos there’s no way I’m calling that asshole dad – decided it was time I earned my keep.
I got so caught up in my history assignment yesterday that I completely forgot about blogging. As an apology, I’m going to post twice today.
**************************************
In the end, our destruction came from far away, beyond our lands, beyond even the beyond.
I’m moving house tonight and won’t have internet access for a while, so I’m posting this week’s Fiction Friday a day early.
*******************************
You might think that day would be forgotten, lost in the cacophony of days since.
*******************************
He is alive, though death would be better, I think.
Trigger Warning: Disturbing content
I wrote this as a story, but I’ve been told it’s poetry, so I’ll post it in both categories and let you decide.
My new Kindle arrived the other day.
*****
Australia emerged from the pandemic relatively unscathed, with less than five hundred deaths.
*****
It was like books with special features and we were stoked.
Lust turned to confusion, then terror, as loud tremors announced the first impact.
*****
He did not wish for more time, though the opportunity to cause more mayhem would be welcome.
*****
Heimdall watched, eyes hard, as Loki lay, wounded and broken, on the frozen ground.
“Johnson’s become a liability.”
Intrigued, she carefully cracked open the cover, mindful of the brittle pages, so absorbed with her find that she never noticed the gently blown dust forming patterns in the air, or the increasing chill causing her skin to goose bump.
We’re alive, but not living, not really. We’re stuck in some endless play and can’t find our way from the stage.
Snow freezes, seeping into your bones, swallowing sensation and suppressing your instinct to survive.
When he woke in the woods in the dark and cold of night, he’d reach out to touch the child sleeping beside him.
A small, unacknowledged, part of your heart despises the serenity, welcomes its transience, eagerly awaits the coming chaos. Before the war, in the world-that-was, you despised the cold spread of adrenaline. Now you crave the exhilaration and terror of combat, the struggle to eke out one more moment of existence.
You perch on the side of an overturned Coles truck, carefully scanning the crumbling homes and weed-choked footpaths for any sign of movement. The air is oppressively still, the silence palpable. Almost painful. Your ears strain for any hint of life. You desire movement and you dread it.
The alleyway was damp and narrow. Slivers of sunlight filtered through drab stone buildings, creating shadowy alcoves, concealing the clandestine dealings of thieves and cutthroats.
How much can change in sixty seconds? An idea. A thought. A text received. A text answered. A life can end. A life can begin. A proposal – the beginning of a lifetime together. Perhaps the apocalypse could happen in sixty seconds.
I took a course at uni entitled Writing Apocalypse: Histories and Speculation. Our first assignment was to write a 500 word piece with the theme of ‘apocalypse’ inspired by, or in response to, our course readings and tutorial discussions. We were allowed to interpret the word ‘apocalypse’ rather broadly. This is my piece as it was submitted. Next week, I will re-post this piece incorporating the changes that were suggested by my marker. I recieved 76% for this assessment, but I personally feel like I should have scored much lower because I failed to convey to my marker that the piece was meant to be a person mourning a loved one killed after texting and driving, rather than a conventional apocalypse.
Magpies strut, did you know? They carry themselves with the arrogance of the snottiest aristocrat, prancing about as though the very ground beneath their feet was laid down with the sole purpose of them one day gracing it with their presence.
Title: Expected
Fandom: Harry Potter
Chapters: 1
Status: Complete
Words: 902
Summary: Harry was known by many names throughout his life, but he always held to one constant. No matter what, he would do what was expected of him. Harry/Ginny; Harry/?.
The tent stood tall in the clearing, a grunting roo its only company. A rusty pot lay abandoned in the mud, ants feasting beneath the mould and grime. Frost coated grass stretched to a horizon made sharp by the early… Read More ›
Mama’s face lit up when she spied me through the old screen door. “Well hello there, Sugar.” She said. “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.” “Hello Mama.” I replied. “May I come in?”
He was short. That’s what caught my attention. I’m a fairly average height, but he barely reached my shoulders. Otherwise, the guy was unremarkable. Dark hair, blue eyes, handsome but not gorgeous — if not for his height, few would… Read More ›
Hushed whispers and tugging hands startled me awake. My fuzzy mind, still groggy from sleep, struggled to make sense of my surroundings as I was roughly dragged down smooth stone stairs towards a cold steel cell. I felt something wet… Read More ›
Terry waited for Julie to pass before emerging from the shadows. “Hello, Michael.” he said coldly. “Terry! But you… you’re…”
‘Fake’. That’s what we all thought when we saw the video of the homeless guy tearing out the cop’s throat with his bare teeth. Two point three million views and not one person thought it was real. Sure, the word… Read More ›
Rafferty's Rules is Closing Down 