• Go get ’em, Tiger (a #weekendfreewrite)

    A burning question began to grow stronger in my heart day by day. “Is there anything missing…” I sighed, looking around at my squalid loungeroom of despair, my crotchety kitchen of corrosiveness, and then out the window at the brown grass, trees, and sepia sky. There was plenty missing. For one, a nice placed to live would be lovelier than this ramshackle mess. For two, perhaps somewhere nicer than… here. Where was ‘here’, anyway? I’ve been here for so long and sometimes I don’t even remember where I am or how I came to be here. Does that make me crazy, or just a mere hint of the mad? I…

  • Hyacaine (a #weekendfreewrite)

    The entire village was outside, waiting for the expected sign in the sky. It came every six months, without fail, but this time it was different. Marie stood and watched, alongside the rest of the impatient villagers, tapping her foot to and fro in time with the drumbeat. The musicians were playing, the drums thumping louder and louder into her soul, twisting and intertwining within her thoughts, the thudding bass reverberating against her blood. It was time. But, it was not. It was happening. But was it? A dull red glow manifested just beyond the horizon… was this what they were waiting for? A golden glow was supposed to form,…

  • Billy the Boxer (a five-minute #freewrite)

    When Billy O’bill told people that he was a boxer, most people laughed. He was short –if he were female, they would probably call him ‘petite’– and was incredibly skinny. He looked as weak as a milky coffee, which was to say that he was pretty damned weak. People didn’t understand though. How could they? All of those preconceived notions. All of the so-called perfect ideals. All of the stereotypes. The fact was, he wasn’t what they thought him to be, neither was he a breed of dog, as some had smirked about. People were complete ning-nongs at times. How hard was it to understand that he packed boxes for…

  • The End is Nigh! (a five-minute #freewrite)

    “The end is nigh!” “The end is already here, you numbskull.” The sky darkened further, fiery debris whizzing through the air akin to an angry goblin juggling a thousand fireballs. “No, no. It’s still nigh. We’re not dead yet.” A juggling fireball zoomed over Josh’s head, setting his hair alight. He screeched and dunked his head into the broken water jug that lay conveniently within head-flinging reach. I raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?” Smoke sizzled from the waterjug and Joey whipped back upright, shaking what remained of his hair back and forth like an overzealous pup. “We’re not dead yet,” he repeated, a grin firmly fixed to his…

  • Why, Barry, Why? (#weekendfreewrite)

    “Where are they coming from?” she screamed. The window was black, covered with buzzing flies. Henry shuffled out from the bedroom, rubbing at his bleary eyes, and raised an eyebrow at the window before shrugging. “Oh, that’s just Barry’s…uh, ‘science project’ he called it.” “What the hell is he doing with twenty thousand flies?” Henry shrugged. “Buggers me,” and shuffled back into the bedroom, a dull thud reverberating over the floor as his heavy frame collapsed back into bed. Great. She would have to deal with this herself. Leonie marched downstairs and into the backyard, and swept her eyes over the gardens. Where was Barry? Her eyes widened. There he…

  • Sixth; Survival

    Nisha peered left and then right. A chill swept across her chest and she looked down, quickly wrapping her arms about herself. Where the hell were her clothes? Where the hell was she? How long had she even been out here? It couldn’t have been long or she wouldn’t be awake right now, alive… was she alive? A wintry forest rose tall above aqua waters, concealing snowy peaks that tried to peer out from behind the thick growth, and the silence was a whistling scream that threatened to rupture her muddled mind. Soft tendrils of steam danced atop the flawless lake -warmth; that was all that mattered. Her missing clothes…

  • Run For Your Life (a five-minute #freewrite)

    Clouds of fire and dust rose up from the earth and shrouded the sky, deafening bangs echoed into the night, and Marie near knocked me over as she zoomed past. “Run for your life!” she screamed over her shoulder. Didn’t need to tell me twice. Were we at war? What was going on!? Unable to help myself, I turned around to see what all the commotion was about, and stumbled over as I saw it. IT. The giant hotdog. What the actual hell? It was the size of my apartment block and was dripping mustard and tomato sauce everywhere. I narrowed my eyes. It was holding people! It was eating…

  • Eavesdropper! – a #weekendfreewrite

    “Don’t you know that violence is an expression of an unmet need?” he said with a smile. She wanted to punch him in the face. Her violence was an expression of the distinct lack of empathy around here. She clenched her fist and returned his smarmy grin. How would that be described in a Stephen King book? A shit-eating grin, probably. That was definitely the grin. She had always imagined it as an unsavoury, filth-dripping grin, but this… this was definitely a shit-eating grin made manifest. Instead of responding, she slowly raised her hand, turned it around, and flipped him the bird, before tossing her hair back and walking away,…

  • Trick or Treat (#fiftywords)

    Melanie hurried home, her pulse quickening, the darkness broken by flames flickering behind jagged teeth and evil eyes. One of them winked at her โ€”the pumpkins were alive! Silhouettes rose tall and blocked her path. She ran, screaming, and tripped over her feet as cheerful voices shrieked, “Trick or treat!”     This little tale was written for @jayna’s #fiftywords challenge ~ the prompt for this week is – pumpkin – and there is still time! You can find the challenge behind these blue words! Come, join us! (Not said in a creepy cult-like way, not at all) ๐Ÿ˜€ I was a bit stumped when I first saw the prompt.…

  • Well-being (a five-minute #freewrite)

    This was not good for my well-being. I looked down at the meagre portion before me. It was a “salad” with a side of tasteless rice. Now, I say “salad” because I honestly wouldn’t call this a salad. It was a single leaf of lettuce, one shrivelled cherry tomato, and the tiniest sliver of an onion… and no dressing to make it more palatable. How could they call this a “decent meal”? Were they insane? I looked over at them, smiling and eating their flavourless helping of the little white specks. It was undercooked, but they didn’t seem to realise. They were definitely insane. I poked at my piece of…