He woke the next morning clutching his throat, the pre-dawn sky casting an eerie pink light across the dark room. His eyes ran to the door. The door with the latch. It was closed.
Category Archives: Fiction
The End of the Road | Pt 4
But before he could enter, it started to happen again: the itching, dry, thirsty feeling in the back of his throat, the blood rushing in his ears, his eyes blurred like he was drunk. I’ve only had two beers, he thought, panicked, scratching at his neck trying to get more air in; taking a few steps further and feeling a great weight against him, as if someone was pushing him away from the door.
Where She Goes
Her hands are older now, and there are clay stains up to her elbows. She watches the little grey teapot spin and spin on her wheel, the sun shining gently through the window of her kiln-room and onto her lap. Her brow is furrowed, but there is no aggravation there anymore. All that’s long gone.Continue reading “Where She Goes”
The End of the Road | Pt 3
He pulled back again on his cigarette and flicked it into an old coffee can at his feet. Sat down on the stoop, beer in hand, wondering about all them back home and what they were doing. Wondered what he was doing, now that he’d had a moment to think on it.
The End of the Road | Pt 2
He closed the old wooden door behind him, wincing at the long creak it made in the dark quiet of the house. He shivered, putting his shirt back on and drinking the cool air into his parched lungs.
Jessica Barratt 