Tag Archives: humour

CCC#28: The Paint Job

Major Marjoram was a trifle discombobulated to find a young man in his garden with palette and easel. ‘And who the blinking blighty are you?’ he bellowed across the hen-pecked yard. ‘Me?’ the young man looked round to see who … Continue reading

Posted in Crimson's Creative Challenge, Shorts | Tagged , , , | 32 Comments

What Pegman Saw: Semjaza’s Descent

This wasn’t his first tour of duty; he’d been stationed here twice, though it was his first visit to this southern continent. He shuddered and quivered: his body’s rebellion. How did the grey techs do it? It wasn’t only the … Continue reading

Posted in Shorts | Tagged , | 31 Comments

A Salve for My Skin

Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake … Um, ladies … Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog. Ladies, wait! Adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting, Lizard’s leg, and howlet’s … Continue reading

Posted in On Writing, Shorts | Tagged , , | 37 Comments

Inescapable Destiny

“The church doesn’t open until nine-thirty,” Daisy reported, having read the notice fixed to the south porch. “What d’yer want to do? That’s a while to wait.” Klukelunnen would be happy to idle in the stone garden, it was welcoming. … Continue reading

Posted in Grandma's Attic, Shorts | Tagged , , | 4 Comments

Cops and Fiddlers

Professor Angelus Margev, large in his professorial garb, blocked the alley, a beatific look of relief on his line-graved face. But Klukelunnen knew that face, like the husk of a seed, hid something, not sweet and nourishing, but an evil … Continue reading

Posted in Grandma's Attic | Tagged , , | 7 Comments

Road Racer

Daisy had told him to head for the road she had drawn in red. That at some place along there, at some time between midnight and two a.m. Jason and the Anthropology Geek Dwayne would find him. But that drawing … Continue reading

Posted in Grandma's Attic | Tagged , , | 6 Comments

A Monster Red and Rumbling

Out of the door Klukelunnen dived and dodged to the back of Night-shift Louisa’s squeaky shod feet. No time to punch the air in celebration, he raced down the long narrowness that Daisy had called a corridor. He had rounded … Continue reading

Posted in Grandma's Attic | Tagged , , | 2 Comments