My Work

Sometimes I am floating blissfully on a cloud, oblivious to my surroundings and the harsh truth of reality. Sometimes I am trapped in a surreal nightmare, shards of insanity shattering my mind. The worst time for me is when I just feel broken. Drowning in questions, guilt, pain and sadness unable to breathe. The best time is when I know that there is no infinity for me. Either I escape or I die. Read More

I am perched on the edge of the rocks, staring up at the sky. The tranquil blue sea stretches out around the golden sand and grassy hills that make my little island. Our colourful patchwork hammocks are suspended in a cluster of trees, and flickering candles line the rocks. I stand up, stretching my wings, and cheerfully hop from one rock to the next, before sliding down a grassy slope and giggling as I hit the ground. The portals to the other realms lie open, and I imagine what it will be like when I am allowed to go on journeys of my own, saving the lost spirits and helping our land. Read More

An awkward silence filled the room as a few more guests entered the room, wiping their muddy boots on the doormat, hanging their dripping coats on the coat hanger at the base of the staircase. Most people think I am rather odd, which was perhaps partly the reason only seven people had said they would turn up to mine and my wife’s dinner party and only five had actually turned up so far. Read More

I remember the times when I would work, hands raw and blistered, face burning from the scorching sun, hoping, desperately clinging to the thought of something better. A comfortable life, with a house tucked away at the edge of the forest, sitting by tranquil streams and gazing out at the beautiful scenery. Then my daydreams would disappear, like someone had built a brick wall between me and my fantasies. Read More

The figure strode through the deserted streets, barely flinching as icy rain pounded against her long black robes. The hood shrouded her face in shadows, an ominous mask of darkness over her face. Terrified faces peered hesitantly out of their windows, but she wasn’t here for them. It was the day of a significant ritual in her group, the initiation of a new member into the clan. She stormed down to the beach, the sea churning and gurgling malevolently, waves crashing against the platform as she ascended to the pier. A small, battered hut stood mysteriously at the end of the wooden platform. Read More 

The churning and gurgling as the rushing stream swept over the rocks. Bees danced merrily among the wildflowers tickling the surface of the water. Ever flowing, ever changing, the stream moved on through the seasons. A shout disturbed the tranquil scenery. Voices rose out of the chattering of the birds and the crashing of the water against the rocks. Read More

These are a few extracts of flash fiction I wrote, which altogether make a short story. 

Nat jolted awake as the car swiftly turned the corner onto Applewood Crescent. She wrinkled her nose in disgust at all the neatly trimmed hedges and elaborate houses standing elegantly in a row along the crisp, clean pavement. She hated snobby, posh people and despite having never actually met them, she was absolutely sure she would hate her aunt and uncle too. “Natalie, try to be polite, please,” her mother reminded her impatiently, “and for the last time, take your suitcase too; I’m not always carrying everything” she finished with an exasperated expression on her face. Read More

Phoenix Rose,” I stutter, “Uh, Phoenix Rose Adams,”. The teacher who is taking attendance in the front field is looking at me strangely, but hands me a map and locker key. “Thank you,” I smile nervously and quickly hurry towards the ever-growing line of new students in front of the door. Oakhill Boarding School towers magnificently over the neatly trimmed grass and cherry blossom trees. Some white sheds and benches stand either side, shielding a small alleyway which I believe leads to the sports area. Read More

Hazel shivered, the bitter night air creeping through her clothes, sinking into the pit of her stomach. The deserted streets echoed with the chorus of creaking doors and rustling leaves. She couldn’t help but think someone was watching her as she approached the graveyard. The foul stench of death wafted through the air, lingering around the headstones, on which names were etched in lettering too pristine, too harsh, like white bone in a rotting corpse. Hazel shoved the thoughts out of her mind. She spent too much time here, and she knew it. Read More

The fragments of glass framed the moon in its unearthly beauty. Wisps of smoke and cloud danced before it, phantoms in the breeze, to a haunting melody. Jagged buildings towered ominously over narrow roads, paved with stones the colour of ash. Resounding through the silence were footsteps, quiet and soft against the wooden floors. Prising the door open gently, Leila stepped out of her room and onto the narrow landing. Read More

None of the images used on this site are mine, other than a few which I have tagged with my name and the date on which I posted it, and those are free to use anywhere else. Thanks, Ellie Snowdon