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Hand and Heart

Posted by on Jan 28, 2013 in Blog | 1 comment

This is a story about the day I stopped believing. It isn’t a long story, or a dramatic one; there’s no wrenching moment of faith lost, no convincing argument that lured me to the other side, no church for me to walk out of, no talisman for me to leave discarded at the side of the road. No tarnished cross in a leaf-filled gutter. Simply this: there were things that I believed. And one day I stopped. One day they were no more substantial than a ray of light. A photon shot at a screen will seem to pass through at a single point; measured, it’s found to have been in two places...

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torch song

Posted by on Jan 20, 2013 in Blog | 3 comments

“…none of us can ever express the exact measure of our needs, or our ideas, or our sorrows, and human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we beat out tunes for bears to dance to, when we long to move the stars to pity.” – Gustav Flaubert, Madame Bovary torch song The floor vibrates with the bass, and occasionally there’s a stomach-swooping thump as someone on the makeshift dance floor gets a bit too daring. Bodies, cheek-by-jowl, the air as sticky as boiled sweets, conversations at deafening decibels, but no one speaking to me. My party. Happy birthday,...

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Monochrome

Posted by on Jan 14, 2013 in Blog | 2 comments

Test results: tumor. Visual cortex; brain stem; medulloblastoma; positron emission; stage 3: a foreign language he couldn’t quite grasp, like a page of newsprint too far away to read. Black and white blending into gray. He went into the MRI machine flat on his back, and if he closed his eyes it felt like he was floating backward on a raft drifting in a still pool. Then the loud hum. He opened his eyes. The colors were there, swirling in a strange dance of their own. The hum of the machine was bronze; machinery noises always were, unless they were the dull pewter of a piston. An infinite...

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Proof of Life

Posted by on Jan 7, 2013 in Blog | 5 comments

Proof of Life

After the smoke had cleared the boots were the only thing left.  Stuck in the ashes of the fireplace, melted to the grate.  Ciara was crying, wrapped up in her new fleece jammies, face smudged with ash and dirt. ‘You killed him’ she wailed, ‘Look what you’ve done, he’s dead!  You killed him!’ she threw herself at her older brother punching him with the side of her fists, weak with sorrow and exhaustion. Owen stared at the coal-black boots , dread heavy like a stone in his belly.  This wasn’t what he’d planned at all. *** It was all Fergals fault, Fergal and Ben, they’d...

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The Reindeer Tribe

Posted by on Dec 28, 2012 in Blog, Featured | 3 comments

The Reindeer Tribe

The smoke from the fire stung Mikkel’s eyes as the old man stirred the bubbling liquid in the clay pot hung above the flames. The black ink was thick and evil smelling. The smell clung to his throat making it hard to breath. The old man, who was named Tengrim, appeared unaffected. As he worked he sang tunelessly under his breath stirring the ink in rhythm with the rising and falling cadences of his song. Mikkel recognised snatches of the tune in the old language of the tribe. He shifted uncomfortably on the bare floor. “How much longer?” he said. “Until it is...

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“Puzzled”

Posted by on Dec 26, 2012 in Blog | 2 comments

There’s a really good chance that this is the WEIRDEST story I’ve ever written… but man, this prompt! Ah, well. You get what you get, and you don’t pitch a fit at whatever the story fairy muse comes up with, yeah? Okay, then. Creative Commons prompt this week courtesy of Flickr user Asja. puzzled. © 2012 T.S. Davis It would be, by the doctor’s reckoning, another week and four days before she got that parasite out of her, but Gillian wasn’t really up to waiting that long. “Are you sure he said the first of the year?” Gran asked, giving a worried look to...

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