Newton's Cradle and a Rat_Blessing of Nereus_Light Years Ahead_The Brown Beer Bottle Reflected E
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Newton's Cradle and a Rat
“We’re running out of time!” Ding* Ding* “we’re running out of time!” Ding* Ding*. Yasha looked up at the other side of the door’s threshold as he climbed up the short stairs into the passenger car. There was a small cat standing on its hind legs, similar to the way a person would. It was dressed in a blue train conductor's uniform and it was covered in white fur with a few black spots, including one on its eye.“We’re running out of time!” It squeaked again. “The doors are closing! We need to stay on schedule! We can’t be late to the next stop!….we’re going to be late!!”Yasha looked up. He...
Blessing of Nereus
An unfamiliar feeling floods my lungs and I become increasingly aware of my naked form, hugging the damp ground beneath me. I am vaguely aware that I am not alone, outlying cheers just audible amid the ringing in my ears. Panic crawls up my spine and clutches at my senses forcing me up despite my aching and uncoordinated limbs. Hundreds of fish lay rigid against the cobbled stones around me. Some are barely recognisable, reduced to puddles of soft, pink ooze on impact. For a moment I wondered how he had been so sure that I would not face the same fate...perhaps he wasn’t. We had all heard the ...
Light Years Ahead
He had lived among us for decades, he kept on hinting but they would not listen. They even tried to section him, but it didn't work, until finally, things changed when he graduated with Hons at Brentrose University in Science and Medicine. There were two more in his family, a brother and sister, with his mother and father, she always knew he was different and he was different, because when he was born, there was a very violent storm which lawww.onedoor.ccsted from the time he came down from the alimentary canal to when the nurse held him and put him into his mothers' arms. The only difference between him a...
The Brown Beer Bottle Reflected Eyebags
The brown beer bottle reflected eyebags that sank down to Alice’s cheekbones. Wrinkles branched out almost determined to reach her hairline. Maybe the convex curvature exaggerated her features, or maybe it better showed what the average mirror couldn’t – an overworked, fifty-year-old accountant. All tinted in the shade of shit.Alice swayed on her stool to the song that played through the speaker. She couldn’t make out the words, but she liked the strum of the guitar. She always had. She even learned to play it when she was a child, but she hadn’t picked it up for god knows how long. The long n...