Snails, Battle, Arena

“Aliens just seem so unlikely, Mr Tempest.” On waking that morning, aliens had been the furthest thing from Miss Emily Pettingill’s mind. Emily liked to garden. She liked to knit. She liked to look at pictures of friends’ grandchildren, to volunteer with St John’s Ambulance, to make pies for her neighbours with the sleepless newborn…

Woman, Snow, Rose

There was no rose to map the blooming of Beauty’s love, nor its wither, its winding, its slow end. The delicate petals in their scarlet blush spoke only of the Beast’s heart. The girl Beauty was an innocent, a charmed faerie who captured hearts like floating autumn leaves. She came to her Beast full of…

Leftovers, Banquet, Watermelon

The staircase was not quite as bad as the rest of the house, but it was bad, nevertheless. Cigarette stubs floated in the dregs of some cheap and nasty red; beer cans were littered up the steps in varied states of flattenedness; and a semi-crushed watermelon was lodged precariously between two of the upright rails…

Candle, Blood, Rope

I am part of no mythology that has ever been written. I am a little like a genie, a little like a lost soul, a little like an eternal flame. If I am mad, I have been so for a long long time. If I am dead, I have been so for a long long…