Short Stories – Blogs Don't Burn

December 20, 2020November 25, 2022

Short Story: ‘Human Stilts’

After waking up from a deep, all-consuming sleep, I leaned forward in a groggy daze to kiss my wife and found only blank space. Believing that I had missed the target of my morning affection, I aimed blindly downward and tried again – only to be met with the same absence. How odd, my wife must have been sleeping at a most peculiar angle. For by my estimation, what with my arms currently being wrapped around her gently heaving body, to miss my kiss her head must have been positioned at an almost complete right angle to her torso.

The macabre unnaturalness of this image disturbed my sleep-addled brain, forcing my eyes open only to be instantly blinded by the bright sunlight streaming into our room from the far window. Blinking, I searched with increasing bewilderment for any sign of my wife`s head. In that space where a human head should have been, where it always was at 7 am on a Wednesday morning, there was nothing but plump and unpressed pillow.

My wife breathed steadily under my arm.

February 9, 2020March 2, 2021

Short Story: ‘A Dance of Two’

An adaption of Mr Darcy and Elizabeth Bennett’s first meeting in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice

Mr Bingley: Once again I am blown away by the wonderous joys that life can bestow when one revels in good company! Every young lady and noble man I have met this evening has surpassed my wildest expectations in beauty, good humour and learning! I must control the urge to let excitement overtake my refined demeanour, yet dancing remains a superb outlet to express such passionate good mood! If only Darcy could experience the same highs as I do in company such as this, or indeed in any company. He seems content to live his life as

Mrs Bennet: the proudest, most disagreeable man in the world! Lurking like a phantom on the fringes of the hall, eyeing everyone with poorly masked disdain. A gentleman indeed! He certainly has nothing in the way of looks. Not like that charming Mr Bingley. Rich, well-bred and as handsome as can be ever imagined! He is the stark opposite of Mr Darcy, whom I despised the moment I set eyes on him! As for Mr Darcy’s rumoured wealth, well, let’s just say I have heard mutterings from numerous reputable sources that denounce such claims as outrageous and unfounded drivel! Still, even if the man were as moneyed as the King, I would not have him consorting with my beautiful Jane, or Elizabeth, or even Mary! Wealth and aristocratic airs don’t impress me! Lord knows even lumpy Mr Lucas would be better suited for my girls than that miserable man! Look how Lizzy sits there with no offer of dance from Mr Darcy. The poor girl is abandoned in cruel isolation, putting on a brave smile to mask her

October 30, 2019October 30, 2019

Short Story: ‘Chroniker’

On our fourth day alive we killed the elderly, as has always been the custom. Three days of tolerance, of something like restraint, then when the great Chroniker chugged into gear for another cycle, we had at it. I would not have waited so long, but tradition does have some brief part to play in life’s journey.

The three-day rule has its purposes, of course. The baton being passed, lessons from yesterday brightening today. But frankly, my people need very little instruction before being ready to blaze out into the world, and our days are far too few to be spent lingering in lecture halls, enduring those withering old Tenners droning on and on about bygone decades. Five, seven, even ten minutes at a time we are expected to just sit and listen! If you knew anything at all about my race, traveller, you might appreciate a little more how tortuous that kind of patience really is.

October 27, 2019November 7, 2019

Short Story: ‘Sweet Tooth’

An adaption of the poem “Ulysses” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

The convenience store across the road got a delivery today. Big box of candy, Kit Kats, Hershey Bars – that sorta thing. Saw the little shit who works there too. Ignores me when I want his attention, snickers to himself while I’m buying jimmies, asks if I need help across the road behind a mask of smugness on his pimply, pubescent face! I’ve been trying to take my mind off it, dangerous and reckless thoughts being what they are and all. But strolling over there with that Gary Cooper walk I used to do on a job, taking some candy and swiping all the cash is… well… tempting to say the least. I could afford to buy that whole shop now, Hershey Bars and all. Yet eating them day and night while they lie in crates at my feet wouldn’t give me a fraction of the satisfaction id get from just taking one, using that universal currency of fear.

They were my Crew, I was their leader. We split scores down the middle, equal pay. We got shot at, we shot back, we ran, we fought, we suffered, we celebrated, and we got richer. Good and bad, we shared the burden of our mistakes and the fruits of our labour. Those days were the best of my life, I’ve never felt more alive as when I was so close to death!

October 27, 2019January 11, 2021

Short Story: ‘Horrorshow Roundabout’

Written in the style of Anthony Burgess ‘A Clockwork Orange’. Most of the language is taken directly, other parts have been created for the purposes of the story.

“What will it be then? You lowest of souls, most diligent workers, sufferers of Bourgeois oppression, what is your choice? Revolution or Slavery?”

Now now Comrades, no need to be getting all razdrazzed already! I viddy these starry-timer slovos are tough to ken for some of you simpler droogs of mine, so please allow your Humble Orator to explain in good old salted-earth Nadsat! That’s the lingo spoken by me and mine up and down this country in every workhouse and proleshed from here to the big grey sea. Quite a lingo it is too! All cockney, Slavic and commoner slovos bundled up together-like in a real powerful shared goloss for us revolting so-and-sos! Many a time in the old world did some uppity lewdie get all spooked-up by our collective goloss. None of us gave a cal then, so why would we now?