Ring, ring. Stevie wasn’t thinking about the money any more; he’d even stopped fretting how such a good idea could have gone so bad. He was meant to be away somewhere, just him and Marcie. Ring, ring.
Not hung up on a meat hook wanting it all to stop.
Ring, ring. He was dying to hear that old-school tone on his phone again but there was silence. Five minutes until the man came back. And then nothing. Ring, ring.
http://www.paragraphplanet.com 06 November 2013
I shouldn’t have told Stefan I’d swapped blood for biscuits, or maybe not in those words. He went all twilighty on me, snarling and snapping and snapping at my throat. It took me all my strength to push him away and over and hold him down on the ground. I tried to explain that I just had a sweet, sharp, tooth – I hadn’t given up, no, of course not, but sometimes I just fancied a nice biscuit, washed down with a nice cup of tea – and off he went again, eyes all white, slathering and barking and making a hell of a noise. Tea and biscuits. Nice. Of course, as I told him, my foot on his neck, he’s old eastern empire, he wouldn’t have tea, but I’m sure he’d kill for a cream cake and a coff- You know, sometimes you just can’t say anything without someone going all mad wolf snarling and leaping out the window. He’ll be back when he’s killed horribly. Enough to put you off your biscuits. I’ll keep the whole vegetarian thing to myself for a while I think.
The real terror only began the day after Hallowe’en, when the graves did not close again, and their occupants did not return. Tio thought the zombie lurching up the alley towards him was someone still in a Halloween costume. Until it tore his head off. Then the real terror began. Terror you can try to imagine.
It’s quiet, isn’t it?
Two people got on the train. One sat on either side of me. One smelled of the death of other people. The other smelled of mine. We got off the train together.
Kenny was stuck between two volume levels. Five was too soft and let the birdsong through; six was deafening. He shouldn’t have, but he threw the old brown teapot at the speaker.
What was all the noise? No, not the music that didn’t let the birdsong through, the noise of – oh, the teapot hitting the speaker and then the floor.
The volume level suddenly jumped to zero. The birds had stopped shouting and wailing, even the pretty-tune ones. The heavy curtains kept out too much light. Dusk indoors and the smell of hot tea and fresh urine.
The hands on the clock with no numbers stayed still, still telling the time before the tea on the floor. Kenny knew someone would have to clean up all that mess. Someone would be angry.
Henry Brodie looked out at the audience as he sang and saw his dark reflection in their adoring eyes.
Later, one person screamed, high-pitched, as he stepped off the roof of the multi-storey car park. Nobody saw him land. They identified the body as his twin’s.
The birds fell, one by one. At first Ian thought they were diving but they were not, they were falling, some backwards and down as if cuffed from the sky, wings spread like crucified angels, others tilting and tipping, heads heavy with emptiness, falling and falling, wings folding. Their distant fall ended somewhere through the shimmering air. He thought of stories that had started and stories that would never. His story ended.
(www.paragraphplanet.com 21 October 2013)
Franki’s friend learned too late not to trust autocorrect. “Two hours to kill at Luton airport” became “Two people to kill at Luton airport”. Blue lights, shouting, lying on the floor, a kick to the head, falling down the stairs, found innocent but dead.
My granny used to taste my hair to see if I’d been swimming in the sea instead of going to church. Now, when my partner’s lips touch mine, I wonder, fleetingly, what they might discover.
Stevie googled “how get blood out bin bags canvas holdall”. He realised his mistake when his question autocompleted and his phone and his doorbell rang.
simonsalento 