In The Machine

In The Machine

The artist knows what he wants to capture. The artist knows the ebb and flow of life, can feel it through his practised eye and steady hand. What a load of bullshit. I get paid for what I do. I’m a professional artist. But you know what? Every fucking time is...
The Professor’s Assistant

The Professor’s Assistant

The old man looked great. He was flying across the floor, spurting out chemistry theory like it was music. Professor Millard seemed to go through phases like that. Last month he had looked like he was about to die. He had been pale and his hair was wispy and limp. But...
A Lone

A Lone

“I hate you sometimes!” Trista hadn’t meant it, she never did. But the words were out there now. And, as always, that sad don’t you love me look on Sarah’s face made her insides churn. Sarah didn’t say anything though, only turned...
Garbage Day

Garbage Day

It’s running for eight now. I have to be at work by 8:30. And there’s still that thing that needs doing. But the bed is warm and that thing is something I don’t want to do. I have to. I know it. I only want to deny it for a little while longer. I...
Rufus Snarblax

Rufus Snarblax

Frank looked at the typewriter again, for the fifth time. He looked at the words written on the blisteringly white paper wedged against the cylinder of the machine. Or, rather, he looked only at the white paper for there were no words upon it yet. Frank didn’t like to...