creative writing, Fiction, flash fiction, original piece, writing

The Stars Won’t See Us

The stars don’t hear a lone voice blending with everything else of this universe.

The eagles short, white feathers flash in between the never ending fall of the black sky. This thick darkness swirls around the motionless light blue waves, which are full of squeaking fish slowly chasing prey.

The morning rush hour speeds and swerves around my flat body as it rests in the salty sand. Barmen hand out crunchy ice cream to the passengers on planes that can’t fly, while kites help people laying on the ground, or floating in the ocean, to stand up.

It’s not unusual for dogs to hate walking on the pavement, preferring to splash in the sweet river, along with feisty squirrels, underneath the sharks which cling to the tops of juniper trees, snapping their blunt fangs in the misty, colourless air.

The petrified owls resting on my arms see what I cannot say. We don’t see the silent stars, we see the breathing planets. There is life that we all remember living – at some point – on one of those lonely globes. The birds lie when they screech barks of the world’s ending. This world can never end because it’s not alive.

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creative writing, flash fiction, original piece, writing

The Demons are After me Again

The demons are after me again. I’ve bolted the door, this time it’s steel. I learned later rather than sooner, but that couldn’t be helped.

Demons are tricky. They take away your rationality and cover the clever bits in your brain. They make you believe that you can’t function without them. That you are dependant on their presence as, without them, no one else would care. Your brain would only contain your thoughts. A negative voice is better than no voice at all. A party is better than being alone. Something is better than nothing, right?

The walls wobble, the floor shakes.

I can cope.

I

can

cope.

My eyes blur but I’m not afraid. I stand with my back against the door, my room rumbling, crumbling.

“I can cope.” I whisper, as the door explodes against my back, wooden splinters clawing at my skin.

As if I could ever build a steel door.

creative writing, original piece, poem, poetry, writing

Castaway Genes

You dug up our dreams

and offered your land

promising to provide what we craved

swearing we wouldn’t be afraid.

You led us up stairs of stars

offering a choice of candy floss clouds

promising we could ride on comets

visit the Sun and find new planets

together.

You fitted yourself behind the wheel

and told us our seats

encouraging us to listen

and to not interrupt

until you decided what to do.

But we paused too long

merry and confident

from the candy you gave

believing we could be brave.

We read the maps, found a quicker path

different to what you desired.

Flushed, you spat

and ripped up the plans

spun us away from the Sun

watching the stars prick

as we stumbled down, scratches stinging

candy floss lingering through sweet tears

the galaxy swirling above

yet your grin dominates

watching us scrape dust

away from our eyes.

Your teeth glinting, mocking

while holding a shovel

dirty and decorated with our fears.