The Dark Room

Nobody Behind the Door by Nicolas Gouny

You know exactly what they look like; black and shimmering, with big long jaws full of bright white teeth. They stretch their arms out, but never come closer than you allow them to.

You stand there and wait, using the light beyond the door to study every shiny scale. They growl and sniff and howl, restless in the dim.

You think they’re the reason you’re still here, that you can’t leave until they are gone. They know better.

Just Beyond

Grey World via Josiah Munsey on Flickr

“Think the sky is grey because we want it that way?” she asks.
Hell of a way to speak to someone on the other side of the line.
“Suits the mood, whatever the reason.”
She ain’t wrong, us facing each other in the misty quiet.

Above us it’s all spinning off, breaking up – reforming.
“Are you afraid of what comes next?”
She’s difficult to ignore but impossible to cut down.
“I’m not.”

Now that, I do believe.
They’ve the light of a million righteous souls behind them.
But us?
All we’ve got’s the guilt.

My Literary Confessions

• My favourite first lines are not ones that you’ll find on top ten lists:

“When a day that you happen to know is a Wednesday starts off by sounding like a Sunday, there is something seriously wrong somewhere.” – John Wyndham, The Day of the Triffids

“It was a dazzling four-sun afternoon.” – Issac Asmiov and Robert Silverberg, Nightfall

“In defense of Althalus, it should be noted that he was in very tight financial circumstances and more than a little tipsy when he agreed to undertake the theft of the Book.” – David and Leigh Eddings, The Redemption of Althalus

Taking Aim

SILLY ROBOT GIRL SEEKS LIKEMINDED PEEPS for sporadic adventures into literary lunacy.

Respondents must be curious, bookish types seeking intermittent journeys into fantastical lands of fiction.

Preferred applicants should be courageous, open minded and possess a basic ability to suspend their disbelief (especially when the author insists the tin robots on her desk occasionally help out with the narrative).

Contact using the comments section below.

:)

Walk With Me My Friend, by abrider3.

Beta Test

(Surrealism)2, photography by Laanscapes

Henry blinked as a newly created sun sparked off between the freshly formed clouds on the horizon, his eyes trying in vain to focus on the paths of transparent hexagons as they melted away. In their wake a new reality shifted, fluid like in front of him. Trees warped in an imaginary breeze, leaves drifting down from their branches only to rise again. Grass dyed itself an appropriate shade of deep emerald green, waving on either side of him as it decided how high it should grow.

Doorways

Hospital RS, photography by Nick Dessauvages via Flickr.

Working the night shift does strange things to your head. Walking down darkened hallways without light or life to distract you gives your mind the opportunity to focus on other things. Around the eight-hour mark my imagination tends to take over. It turns the rooms I look into as I pass gateways to different places inside my head. The absence of colour and conversation creates a blank slate, perfect for projecting mindscapes onto.

The Inventor

Painting with Light, via equivocality here.

On a barren road, and in the dark
I create.
With faded skies overhead, and a blank canvas
I invent.
Controlling light, and moving in time
I imagine.
Pieces of a world undiscovered, fall into place
I explore.

The Bee Removal Dance

The only acceptable bee is a crochet one! By syppah.

It was a beautiful [it wasn’t actually that’s a complete lie] spring afternoon in South East England. The air was warm [muggy] and a light breeze was blowing our heroine’s hair back and forth [I looked like a Tim Burton character after five goddamn minutes – all that time and hairspray for nothing. NOTHING.] as she walked.