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Showing posts from May, 2019

Legend Tripping

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  1. Most of the children of Carlin High School were engaged in the usual playground activities, girl gossiped rapidly sounding like a thousand busy typewriters; youthful first years laughed and chas ed each other around the yard, burning off energy; older kids from the rough end of town hid behi nd the toilets, smoking weed. Steven was sitting alone, perched on the fence like a hawk, watching all the normal mayhem when he spotted Simon Anderson take a nosedive onto the concrete. The boy just went white and dropped, and even though the other kids were making a godawful din, Steven definitely heard Simon’s skull crack like a heavy egg as it smashed onto the ground. The noise was a sickening, hollow sound that made his heart jump in his chest. He immediately jumped off the fence and rushed to see if the older boy was alright. In the seconds it took him to move to where Simon was, there was a large crowd around Simon, some girls were screaming, an older boy was shouting, “Get a tea

Rottenrow

Agnes watched impatiently as the young woman screamed, her pale blue gown stained blood and waters. Two other nurses tried to subdue her but the girl was hysterical. Doctor McAllister held the bloody lump in his hand and shook his head. “Stillborn” was the only word he uttered, with a sigh. The young woman screamed again, sobbing and wailing for her lost infant. For a moment Agnes felt her pain but the sympathy was fleeting, the young woman was, after all, insane. What self respecting woman would fornicate outside of marriage? She'd have to be mad. “ Agnes, take Miss Brennan back to the ward please.” McAllister stated in his most dispassionate monotone. Agnes nodded and grabbed the girl by the arm. “This way,” she ordered. Miss Brennan was having none of it and dropped to her knees. “Ma wean!” “ Your child is dead. Now hush and come on , ” Agnes demanded, already considering the woman a burden. S he had no dignity, no breeding, an alley cat

Immortalised.

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It is said, that at some point in their career, all true artists must confront their demon. Whether or not I belong to that small group is for others to say, nevertheless, the confrontation came. I vaguely recall it being a small, off-putting creature, with glossy serpentine skin and an array of eyes like that of a devious spider. I had not been expecting it, awaking to find it perched on my chest, sniffing my face. A vile little gargoyle with a startling voice. It was quite the sophisticate and it wasn’t long before we were negotiating a contract. My desire was plain, Immortality, but I knew demons were cunning and so I stated my provisos. No harm was ever to come to me, I would live forever, I would not age past the age I was, which was thirty eight years. The creature took the deal. I did not tell my dear wife, nor my children, of my dark pact. I suffered to watch them grow old, to die. While these were dismal moments, I just took it as a lesson not to get close to ot

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