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Weekly Contest #357
‘A man can lose himself entirely in the darkness,’ my master tells me as we pass the cells and interrogation chambers on the first level of Stonehaven Keep’s dungeons. It is dusk, yet a languid smattering of light filters into each cell from barred windows near the ceiling. ‘But one ray of light, be it of a waning moon, the gloam of a setting sun, or the meagre flicker of a candle, is enough to sustain a man’s spirit.’I pluck an unlit torch from a basket as we approach stairs down to the next level. I can see without light, as my master’s de...
Weekly Contest #317
Somewhere in Space, Year 3072 Hark was tense in the pilot’s seat. He closed his third eyelids for total darkness and imagined his crew was back and safe, Si by his side. He felt a moment of peace. But pings from the Nexus’s automated operations disturbed that almost immediately. He lifted his opaque lids with a sigh and looked out the panoramic window through his shaded secondary lids, allowing him to view the spacescape. Zantanor’s twin suns were soft golden orbs in a sky the shade of unbuffed steel, while red Zantanor itself bulged from hi...
Weekly Contest #287
‘What is that?’ ‘It’s mint,’ Dod informed me. ‘We grow it in the gardens. We’ve herbs, and fruits and veg. Even some flowers, just to brighten the world up a bit, grey as it stays these days.’ The existence of gardens here set my mind to wondering what else this old keep contained that I had not yet discovered during my three months here. Dod handed me a mug, a cloud of minty vapour dragging after it and steaming up around my face, filling my nostrils with a warmth that cooled. ‘Did you know the grounds here were built as a military fortress...
Weekly Contest #281
Scoop, grunt, thwump was the rhythm of his work as he dug the grave. He was interrupted when his pocket buzzed and a tinny rendition of We Wish You a Merry Christmas echoed around the dark cemetery. Matt squatted down behind a headstone, swiping a numb finger at the luminous screen, cursing that this had happened to him on the coldest night of the year. He peeked up, surveying. No one there, just black silhouettes of snow-topped headstones looking like some huge, macabre game of whack-a-mole. He put the phone to his ear.‘Hello? Mr. Delaney?’...
Weekly Contest #149
[Note: this is a sequel to the story "Lies of the Rational Mind", although it can be read as a standalone story]The aftermath of whatever had gone down was grisly, grislier than most supernatural crime scenes I had investigated. I’m slightly ashamed to admit I’d had to run to the toilet to puke immediately. I returned to the bedroom a shade paler than usual, brushed underneath the yellow and black tape crossing the doorway, and appraised the corpse for a second time, trying my utmost to ignore the viscid stench of rotting offal emanating fro...
Shortlisted for Contest #146 ⭐️
Hanlon’s Rialto was a redbrick bar occupying a corner unit where the streets Nemsin and Elpis met. A flickering neon sign proudly captioned its entrance. Inside was all dim yellow lighting and old stonework walls, booths with threadworn red cushions that looked like a good smack to one would kill an asthmatic. As fine a bar as any to sit and stare and wallow. Absolutely nothing special about it, absolutely nothing to distract from the drink, which was a ten year old single malt scotch glowing gold in the bar’s sallow light. The bartenders se...
Weekly Contest #107
It’s all in your mind, Pete. Pete put one foot through the half open door of his bedroom and slipped out into a hallway in total darkness. He looked down and wiggled his fingers and all he saw were murky phantom blurs. He waited a moment for his eyes to adjust as best they could, resisting the urge to fumble for the light switch on the wall somewhere to his left. It was a kind of test he put himself through sometimes. To prove what, he wasn’t sure. That he was a rational man, unafraid of the dark? That he didn’t need light to walk in a strai...
Weekly Contest #106
Thick blue smoke plumed and pooled around the old man's head. His grandson sat crosslegged before him on the harsh concrete floor of their subterranean shelter, watching the coils of smoke slowly unfurling upwards and collecting beneath the low, stained ceiling. There was one window in the room; a small rectangular pane of filthy glass close to the top of the wall. A pallid stream of light penetrated the layer of grime welded to it. The boy's grandfather sat across the room drinking in the meagre ray of light, the leathered seams of his face...
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