Sloth (2 of 6)

Just five more minutes.

Clara saw images move behind her eyelids. They turned red, when she turned her head towards the window. So she turned her head into her pillow and sighed.

She imagined lying on a beach, the sun baking her back. But outside the rays of the sun were at their most dangerous, while her personal rays were only pleasant.

She took another deep breath with a smile.

Her stomach growled.

Breakfast time was long gone, but maybe lunch could still be had?

She could ask Henry to make her eggs if Laura was done with him.

She scratched a rib, stretched, yawned and rolled into her eiderdown.

Just five more minutes.

Gluttony (1 of 6)

(Credit: , Magnozz)

(Credit: , Magnozz)

Laura poured it all down her throat, honey glazed pork, roast chicken, pasta with tomato cream sauce. Her slurping and smacking of lips mingled with the heavy smell of food held back by the velvet curtains. It all conspired to make the air in the room practically solid even though there were many meters to the ceiling. Reaching for the potatoes, she saw Henry standing beside the table, hands folded in front. There were marks from his toque where his straw coloured hair was plastered to his forehead. His half worried half hungry eyes followed each morsel from her plate to her voluptuous lips. She decided to throw him a bone and beckoned. He blinked at if woken up mid-dream and came closer, shoulders hunched.

‘The chicken is especially good,’ she said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin, ‘well done, Henry.’

‘Thank you my Lady,’ Henry bowed his head.

She beckoned again and when he bent closer, gave him a smooch on the cheek.

‘Thank you, my Lady,’ Henry’s eyes shone, ‘thank you.’

‘You can return to the kitchen,’ she said and he backed away from her bowing, one protective hand over the wet mark she had left on his cheek. Her chuckles sent ripples down her chins, across her breasts, over her stomach to her thighs enveloping her chair. Then she felt a rumbling which had nothing to do with her laughter.

‘Gary, the bucket,’ she said. He was there at once and up came pork, chicken and pasta with tomato cream sauce and honey.




May was warm that year and gentle on his heart. A few women came knocking; he even let one of them in. Just as he braced himself for the pangs of refurbishing, she simply slid inside and settled into his heart as it was. She told him she hoped he would never change, and she promised him that she never would. This made him sigh with relief.

Several months later, he grew slightly bored with the daily routine, so he signed up for a climbing course. He discovered that something was wrong during the very first climb. Then he noticed what it was; she was there in his chest like a lump of lead, weighing him down.

Well that was that, he thought, she would have to go. However, when he thought he was ready to remove her, he found that she had grown on him, into him; sitting in the wall of his heart like a tumour.

50 Breaking the Rules

walking on walls

’Oops,’ she said looking at the shards on the floor, ’I think I broke it.’

‘Just sweep it under the carpet,’ he said, turning over speed of hair growth in his hands.

‘What if it was an important one?’ she lifted up the carpet and scraped the shards under with her shoe.

‘It’ll be fine,’ he said, pocketing the possible creation processes of gold, ‘in all probability no one will even notice.’

The next day on earth ten people thought themselves the new Spiderman when they discovered that they could walk up vertical walls.


I’ve missed a couple of updates lately, so now I’ll try changing the update days to Wednesday and Sunday instead of Wednesday and Friday. I’m not sure whether it will help or not, but in general I do seem to be more busy on Fridays than on Sundays.

Hopefully I’ll see you around!


eyes watching

It was like telling herself not to think about polar bears and having them swimming and running and hunting down all the other thoughts in her head. Did her thoughts taste like seals? And then they popped up again; the eyes. Eyes all around her. Only seldom did she catch the people on the street looking straight at her, but she could feel them always. And if she closed her own eyes, they only grew bigger in her mind.

So she fixed her stare on the cobble stones in front of her feet and strode on until she left the town and the sun went down. It did not seem like anyone followed her, but still she kept walking all through the night and the next day too.

When she reached an old battlefield, she let herself heave a sigh of relief; here were only scorched grass, dirt and bones. With the sigh, the strength left her body and she slumped to the ground. She rolled onto her back ready to finally sleep soundly, but then utter horror gripped her. The eyes, there were millions of them, strewn across the heavens they glinted down at her and she knew there was no escaping their judgement.




Swaying to the flute and the breaking waves and the voices of the invisible singers in the branches.

I am not sure what made me begin, but it feels right to sway, like a reed nudged by a gentle breeze.

And the slate coloured sand wash away into the grey water which mingles with the iron sky and I think that I too could be part of it all, of something greater, if I just let myself. As the cold water seeps into my shoes I shiver, but it is not long before the numbness comes and some large hand is already smudging all the remaining contrasts into uniformity.

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