Short stories - Spherical Scriptings

He didn’t have a blemish on his body. No indication of how life had sought to find the full texture of the death blanket.
A smile fragmented the coldness of his body lying amongst the rattl…

Each week he would come with a new story: assault, rape, murder. All of which he knew intricate details to the crimes. Standing back he would laugh at the student’s attentiveness, their shock.

I looked down at my mother she looked so peaceful and so serene. Her chocolate hair perfectly curled around her face. Her makeup was immaculate, not creepy or doll-like.

....The cold sheet shocks me back to reality. I’m alone…..

“He who lives by the sword, dies by the sword,” he declared. “But this is my path no longer. Now I know that Death is not the end, but the beginning.”

Enchanted Folk
A Sidhe Fairytale

My grandma took me with her everywhere when I was little. She showed me all the herbs and taught me how to use them. I used to think of the woods as my best…

When his father had warned him of the monsters on the streets of New York, he hadn’t thought the monsters were real …

He likes to stay out late you see. At least late enough for him to find some shit-faced, bimbo who he can bring back here and have some fun with before disposing of the poor bitch.

I wake up on the floor of my bathroom one last time. I don’t want to move yet still i struggle to my feet.

She understands what the ink across his knuckles means.

I’m in the bathroom staring at a stranger in the mirror – the unfamiliarity of the face looking back at me fills me with fear.

She walked slowly down the narrow dirt lane, cupping in her hands the most beautiful butterfly she had ever seen.

I cram the last of the overstuffed black bin bags into the big brown bin outisde my kitchen window before closing the lid.

Unfolded Blood

“Linda”.
“I’m terribly sorry, Linda. Are you alright?”
He helped me get on my feet. The ache suddenly wrapped me.
“Where did the ball hit you?”
“Here, in my belly.”
He gr…

“They say he must have slipped and fell on the knife” said Jenny. “Stabbed him clean through the heart” said Stephen.

The phone alarm beeped its annoying little beep into my left ear. I had been expecting it, tossing and turning as i had been for the last few hours in the devout hope of succumbing to sleep. …

I find my tools in the boiler room, which sits abreast the cubical-like toilet in my shitty little house, kept in a large sports bag caked in dried blood stains.

For a few brief moments I stand with my back to the door, breathing heavily and staring ahead, pressing my body against the wood as thought trying to keep something out.