I waited for her on a crisp morning in September. The café where I waited was swamped with people in shorts and track suits and smelling of sweat. Jetty Road was a wall to wall mass of runners and walkers, and the obligatory onlookers. Great day to pick, Driver; just happens to be the inaugural City to Bay Run Fun.Read more "Mirror World"
Gunter chased him. Clutching a little package. Urging. ‘Open your present, Karl.Read more "100-word Christmas Challenge"
‘I’m not your girl!’ I threw a book at him.
The book bounced off his head, and then cartwheeled over to the lampstand. Kirk’s gun claws, aimed at Günter and me, remained steady. They vibrated and whirred charging up to fire. Kirk crowed, ‘Bombs away!’
I whacked the plate scattering strings of pasta, or what looked like strings of pasta, over the floor, wall and his mask.
The Chief Ex peeled a spaghetti noodle from his mask. ‘What did you do that for?’
‘How do I know it’s not Boris food? Magellan maggots and some poor human’s blood and flesh?’
‘Ooh, touchy! Touchy!’ Boris said. ‘You think hands are so bad? I think it’s time you learn your lesson.’ Boris signaled for another guard to stand on the other side of me. ‘Get her out of my sight. The next time I see her I want her as a mince sauce on my Magellan maggots.’ He purred, ‘Mmmm! Magellan maggots.’Read more "Out of the Chocolate Box (65)"
‘Where shall I take her…’ the masked man asked, then lowering his voice, ‘…for your pleasure, Boris?’ He pulled me back.
‘Just a minute,’ I said, wriggling to minimize the distance between my enemy and me, ‘not so fast. I want to have the pleasure of spitting on him until he’s covered in it.’ I pulled away from my captor.
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.