Short Story Essay

There we were: a dilapidated bench in Parc Bryn Cegin, myself only a haircut and a hip transplant from my eighteen-year-old self, and Kenny, portly and bald from head to toe, resembling the Michelin man or maybe an alopeciac. Both of us were still in our all-blacks, with matching hand-carved oak boxes clenched between our thighs. “Might as well start from the beginning.” Out came the same boyish squeak I remembered crying for help during an amphetamine-fueled dip in the Thames one shrill night in

Tic-toc-tic-toc, the annoying presence of that reminder of the passage of time was the only thing breaking the silence of the town hall, with the exception of the occasional child wanting their mother to comfort them. Other than that, an uneasy quiet permeated the area, as if the reaper himself was in the room, selecting who to drag into the afterlife. Actually, it would probably lighten the mood if that was the case. Not even the mayor’s entrance gave security to anyone. Gone has his exuberant

“—weapons? – no – but he’s reaching into his--” She hangs up. The frightened, round, short man said, “Are you crazy?” “Stone do you want to show them how you earned your name?” “Let’s go down stairs and wait for the police.” The round guy grabbed Ethyl’s arm, but she resisted. Chartreuse made a second call, “Levi, your aunt and some round

“Mom, why is Dawn here,” Brynn complained. “Because, she loves you guys and she begged to come.” said her mom. Dawn smirked as Brynn’s mom finished her sentence. “I just couldn’t wait to see you guys!” says Dawn with a sly smile plastered onto her face. Then she got into the car and sat in the middle so that Brynn and I couldn’t sit next to each other. “Dawn,” said Brynn, “Move over.” Dawn didn’t budge. “Move over, please?” bribed Brynn. But Dawn still held her ground and just would not move over

Billy Weaver was walking down the street after getting off the train when something in a window front caught his eye. If was as if he was a rat that smelled cheese and trying to sniff it out. The sign read, “Breakfest n’ Bed” It felt as if he’d been staring at the sign for hours. He walked up to the door and knocked on the door. Not after two seconds of knocking on the door it opened. There stood a woman, old, small, and looked like a normal grandmother. “Hello there,” the women said, “ Please come

"You're not going to use magic?" The sorcerer glanced up from his work, but only for a moment. It wasn't often that he received visits to his quarters beneath the castle and that was supposed to be the point. It was out of the way, beyond the marble floors, fountains, and scantily-clad ladies the nobles so enjoyed, down near the dungeons, with only flickering torchlight and the damp chill of the underground passages. Their were little comforts down here and the sorcerer approved of that. His predecessor

“Come on, Maya, try to focus!” “I can’t!” Edward watched the giggling little girl with an amused and annoyed look. Getting a child like Maya Hicks to focus on anything was quite difficult. And tiring. Definitely tiring. Sometimes he had to remind himself that she was only eight. “Well, if you’re not going to work, I’ll just write this myself and say you helped,” Edward said, giving a small smirk. “No!” Maya squeaked, suddenly snapping out of her giggle fit. Edward chuckled a bit himself. He

Deep in his heart, Shiro knew that he loved the man standing in front of him. Through thick and thin the pair had been there for each other, no obstacle would ever be above their love, but that didn't mean that they weren't ready to test limits and push boundaries. Takashi had never been tied up before, at least not in a pleasurable way, so the feeling was completely foreign. With just enough room in the scratchy rope to turn his wrists, he didn't feel as if he was in danger, and he was well aware

empty window and disappeared. The raven flew away. My curiosity about the house and its occupant prompted me to buy a large lump of meat the following day. I set it on the balcony on a bit of newspaper and awaited developments. In a comparatively short time the smell was so strong that I was obliged to pursue my daily activities with a paper clip on the end of my nose—occasionally, I descended into the street to breathe. Towards Thursday evening I noticed that the meat was changing colour, so waving

Their circuitous route took Tom and Marcus into one of the more affluent residential districts. Room 15A was their final destination. Deep in thought, Marcus stared at the duck-egg blue walls while his mind fumbled for the passcode, but at last, remembering, he typed it into the small rectangular keypad beside the doorway and waited for it to open. Tom whistled softly through his teeth as he stepped inside, his wide eyes filled with the splendour. 'Amazing. So this is how the other half lives.' 'Nice