The Statue is looking at me or am I looking at the Statue? Impossible to say. Certainly, the Statue has eyes, eyes that follow, eyes that chase, eyes that will never leave me. I’ve been here many times before in this hall of oppressive stone. Statues surround me but only one has my heart. IContinue reading “The Statue That Could See”
Tag Archives: short story
Grey Britain
My mind is a fragile thing. No, the world around me is fragile, brittle, crumbling at the faintest touch. I am strong; a stoic among weaklings, a hero among monsters, a shining light that eliminates darkness and leads the way. If I keep telling myself that, I will live to see another day. I willContinue reading “Grey Britain”
Goat Man
On the outskirts of Manchester, there lived a goat-headed man named Burt. From the neck down, his humanoid body was the same as any man, and he dressed in expensive, tailored suits to ensure he fit in at work. His head, however, was a sight to behold; curved horns sprouted from his long, furry face,Continue reading “Goat Man”
The Bane of Necromancy
The sun was setting over the foothills. The orange light had lost its vibrancy, as the grass faded to grey. The day had blown its final kiss of farewell. A blanket of thick black was cast over the world. The night that would never end had begun. The animals were silent, asleep or afraid. TheContinue reading “The Bane of Necromancy”
Purity
I was her prisoner now, primed for torture. My punishment was her gaze. Her beauty was the first thing I saw. The only thing I saw. Her eyes captivated me, threatening to never release me. Irises blue and as fatal as the ocean, promising to hold me under her sea and drown me. She wasContinue reading “Purity”
A Good Day
Wordsworth was having a good day. It was probably the finest day he’d ever experienced. Really, quite excellent. Well, as far as could be said for days spent in Tameside. Wordy cursed the day he’d agreed to move to this small town, inhabited by small minds. Mossley, what a joke. Full of miserable faces andContinue reading “A Good Day”
Thin Glass
“Once, I believed myself to be the master, but now I know the truth.” – a poor, helpless soul The mirror was my harlot, my whore, my plaything to tease in the dark and fondle with my eyes. The reflection looked like me, it even moved like me, but we were not the same. TheContinue reading “Thin Glass”
Davey Cobb 