It’s Not Real.

Blurry Face greeted Blank Face with a blurry stare. Blank Face greeted Blurry Face with a blank nothing. Both noticed the absence of the other, though neither knew what it meant, nor how to react; Everything was blurry, everything was blank. Continue reading


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Arta and the White-Haired Witch (Pt.2)

“No king am I, for destitute must I be.” Moaned the once great king Arta, whose wretched form did slump against the damp stone of his cave wall.

“No king are you, for destitute must you be.” Rang back his prison, and Arta did wallow and shudder, for the walls did torment the troll with echoes and mockery. “No king are you, for destitute must you be!” Cackle in delight they did as their prisoner began to cry and cower, falling into oh so much sorrow that deep in his heart his strings did snap and fling him into great slumber. Continue reading

Arta and the White-Haired Witch

Once upon a time, atop the cliff edge of a great land, there stood a fantastical castle built of silver stone, with four slithering spires that etched shimmers in the sky. Such was its splendour that jealous waves would claw at the cliff-base, desperate to take the stead for its own. Deep in the bowels of this wonder there lived but one man, and his name was Arta. Continue reading

The Fight For Fendemy (Part 1)

Percival Anderpold II eyed with a nonchalance befitting dead men the force amassing across the river. Rumours had hinted at the ambitions of Yanderlar’s fresh-faced king; They told of skirmishes in the East and sackings further North along the Divinus mountains that demonstrated a demonic capacity for destruction. They said he would be the king to conquer all kings and that once he’d fulfilled his fate he would take his leave in the divine from whence he came. Continue reading

Alan & The Delectable Desk

In the top drawer of Alan’s delectable desk, I found a ball no larger than one you would use in a game of tennis. I think it’s made of light. It did not shock me, Alan commanded an aura of difference befitting grand desks and otherworldly objects in a mid-level administration office; But what could it be for? My subconscious must know better than I, it’s overriding the control I had over where my eyes lie. My god is it mesmerising, I cannot, seem to… Continue reading

Wake up!

Snap. You are in a box. The walls glimmer white with a fluorescent shimmer. Looking around, you can see that your cage contains no door, no windows. In a panic you seek a small crack that could indicate a hidden escape, to no avail. A bead of sweat drops through your field of vision and your insides become constricted, claustrophobia is coming. Where are you? Continue reading


I don’t know which way I’m facing. Black is up, black is down. White is everywhere, yet so far away. How much longer do I have? The suit became depleted hours ago, though I am still here, drifting. My vessel had crawled out sight a few days ago, isolating me, condemning me to the depths of inevitable mortality.

We had blasted out of the atmosphere 6 years and 246 days ago at the moment of malfunction. Totally unexplained. Our task had been to visit a system within one light year that had promised a home for the flailing society we left behind. Now, I, am left behind. Continue reading

16th October 3426

Under this dome, we seek peace. Since its placement over our small community we have strived to lead better lives than the savages beyond. Our dome keeps us safe from the unrelenting death and desecration of pointless war, and for that we owe it our lives. Continue reading

Jay Jay The Banay-nay

Jay Jay the Banay-nay lay chill in his Moroccan patterned fruit bowl. Chin’ chillin’ with his buddies Jay Jay was the life and soul of the party. The apples bobbed with laughter at Jay Jay’s jokes while the grapes guffawed – boring bastards – and the oranges danced out of their skin to his beatz. Every bowl of fruit is brought to life with a Banay-nay. Jay Jay took full advantage of his stature in the fruit world, taking favours from passing compadres and taxing those who stayed for longer as if the bowl were his personal hotel. Continue reading