Kate

The Sanctum of Dreams

“I dreamt about you last night. You were in the sanctum.”
“Well, that’s hardly surprising, is it? Given what’s about to happen.”
“No. I suppose not. It was just so…”
“So…what? Are you going to share? Or just sit there looking worried? I’m not a mind reader.”
“Yet.”
“Ha! True. Well, tell me about it. I don’t like to see y…[Read more]

Thank you, Sea, for the challenge. It was a challenge, too! Not my normal kind of writing.

Congratulations, Sandra. An excellent story.

Thank you Sea, not least for the challenge itself, which forced me to face and write a scene I had been putting off; I look forward to the time that bottle of wine is anything but virtual. And yes, I was glad not to be the judge this month, so many differing emotions to choose from. I’ll be back in the morning with a challenge for November.

346 words excluding title

Learned Habits

Her flatmate said she wanted a chat, about the apartment. She called it an apartment but with its beige kitchen units, its shower over the bath, its dingy paintwork, it was an old-fashioned flat.

Both women were in their early twenties.

Jess sat down on the sofa. The sofa, said the flatmate. Its…[Read more]

Congratulations, Doug. Sounds like you’re on a roll. It’s lovely having that feeling of not wanting to stop.

There’s a monster inside of me.

It was born when Noellia moved into number 14.

The car started it. A shiny new Fiat 500. Electric. In powder blue. Parked on the drive. I looked at my own clapped out Fiesta and felt the first stirrings of new life, deep in my chest.

She fed the monster well, did Noellia.

Had an open house, she did. Invited…[Read more]

0815 Wednesday 12 December (350 words, 1 an expletive)

I assumed … God help me, I assumed McCallan had come with news of arrests, of mitigation. Or at least reassurance of progress
Instead –
Instead – Rob.
Robbie my son, my first-born.
Dead.
Dead in her car.
She the driver. No blame … no blame for Robbie, McCallan said.

Robbie, who Moira r…[Read more]

Well done, Sea – and also for the theme of next month’s competition.
Thanks Janette, for an opportunity to rehearse a scene, and for feedback.

Well done, @seagreen, excellent story.

Great stuff @seagreen. Super story.

Congratulations @seagreen. I love the voice in your story.

Untitled

And the theme for this evening is Armageddon. Car after car heads west into London under a roseate sky, a bursting bloom, seepage of orange and crimson, a lure like a turn-on.

I drive. We all drive.

Earlier today, Clare’s voice on the phone.

– Who is Emily?

Emily. Emily naked.

– Dunno. Why d’you ask?

– You left your…[Read more]

Red Sun

Sunsets are very different here. Everything is different, but it was the sunset that I was staring at last night. Or rather, the absence of a sunset.

OK. No sunset. Tell you what, there aren’t any asthmatics here on Grissom’s planet either. I’m not blaming anybody; when a 300-mile-wide asteroid drew a bead on Earth at twenty-five miles…[Read more]

The marking of a life, or two.

This the second funeral in six days and the mourning very different.

Last week’s was of a mother. Not his, not biologically, but one who had nevertheless mothered him. Had generously included him, enabled him to share in the love she gave her natural sons. Much needed when his own family had been hard and spiky, s…[Read more]