Out of the Chocolate Box (63)

The scent of antiseptic mixed with a putrid pong stung my nostrils. ‘Ugh! What’s that wiffy…?’ I gagged. Then with hand to mouth, I looked up.
Boris lounged on a reclining armchair. He rested on his shell showing off his abdomen. His flesh was covered in gaping wounds infested with maggots.

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Out of the Chocolate Box (45)

At seven in the evening, I scampered down to the kitchen and attempted to scrounge some scraps from the kitchen hand; some weedy adolescent wearing a hooded windcheater. What was he hiding? Pimples? He kept mumbling, ‘You’re too late, Miss’.
In the end, I mumbled in reply, ‘This retreat is not a retreat, it’s more like a boarding school or even a concentration camp’.

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Lost World of the Wends (50)

Dan groaned, ‘I think I’m going to barf.’ He cupped his hand over his chin.
‘Sorry, mate, try not to. Look, I have to get out and find help,’ Arthur said. He wished Dan was well enough to accompany him. But for some reason, the so-called space travel had drained Dan’s physical resources more than his own. He studied the rest of the travellers. They’d been stuck in this bus longer than he had and so were weaker from dehydration and lack of food. It was up to him. Arthur kicked the window again. His foot slipped on the glass.

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