London torn. Night and day. Sinners and angels. Debut novel by Mark A. King, available now
A look. A touch. She has seen him in a thousand dreams. He is nothing without her. He is the creamy white of empty space. She has given everything up for him. Her family are half-remembered as megapixels on a digital-camera. Her ribs jut against her anaemic skin like frigid waves. Her friends detest what …
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Z-A of an Apocalypse Zedonk once roamed the savannah. Yet we ignored their extinction, like our own. Xyster winds scrapped soil from land, like flesh from bone. We watched oil tankers turn to rust on the sand dunes of London. Voices of nature, whispered then screamed. Muffled by our greed. Useless products filled our homes …
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Three Mothers I have two mothers. The first is Mum, who dabs crumpled tissues on her eyes. She goes places to hide her weeping for my pain, for my future; but I can always tell. When she returns, her smile is too false and eyes too darkened. The second is Mother Nature, for when Mum …
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*** SPAM *** Lunar Realty Inc Special offer —- Subject: *** SPAM *** Lunar Realty Inc – Special Offer To: FlashFridayWriterGroup@dragonylairofcadbuy.com From: admin@lunalandgrab.com Halt! Do NOT delete or skim. This is not spam. It is a story with a start, middle and end. It is the story of your future and what a future it …
The Sirens of Europa …and so I find myself with a difficult choice to make. Nestled between the hulking cookies ‘n’ cream swirling skies of the Jovian overlord and the fragile crackle-glaze ice-moon of Europa, I watch, monitor and wait. Despite the rewards, NASA couldn’t afford the mission. It was paid for by the 1% …
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St. Valentine’s Day Massacre Always the same. I should’ve prepared. It’s not like they didn’t tell me. As soon as the turkey curry repeated on me, they were festooning the shops with the gaudy red, the hearts and the semi-naked cupids. Get ready, Clive, they shouted. Yet, I waited. Maybe I’m a visionary. A modern-day …
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In the Blink of an Eye Blink| Slushy darkness punctured by brutal light. Blurs. Muffled sounds. Swaddling. Mamma’s warm milk |Blink Blink| The circling bird above the spire. The rejoicing sound of Sunday bells callin’ ‘cross stubble-fields. My Sunday-best fabric twirls in the playful glow of stained-glass light |Blink Blink| Christmas. A glittering present box …
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Judging at FF for 3rd time with Tamara Shoemaker. We were thankful for a much greater range of stories. Overall quality was very high (as were the numbers). Hard choices to make...
FAQs We are near the end now. I once harboured you – in roughened houses, in biblical arks, behind strengthened doors and the curled razor barricades of Flanders. You cut me with sharpened metals from the earth. Peeled my skin. Pulped my flesh. Yet, you nurtured and respected me. We once were …
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Mirror | Mirror Her paddleboat is a glorified bicycle on water. Yet it skims the mirrored surface, on dreams of tranquillity. She is leaving the shores of eroded memories, of this long and prosperous life. She envisions the sunsets of Monet. How she has lived. How she has loved. How she has taken everything, from …
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Metropolitan Dreams 