Curled on her side in the window-seat, she gazed out at the open moors. Tears made gentle tracks down her cheeks.
Outside, the clouds gathered, dark with empathy, heavy with the weight of their care for her. When the rain fell, the grass sighed its longing.
When at last she returned, the moor would welcome her with wild winds and dramatic skies.
Perhaps then they would both be whole, and she would remember, at last, what she truly was.
Microfiction! Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay, used under Pixabay License.… Read more
Her dog was a creature of moonlight and chill wind.
It lived on the hill behind her house, in the ruins of the old stable. She’d been up there to get … away, when she heard whimpering.
It was a timid thing, thin-boned and silver-furred, all eyes flashing in the dark and tail vanishing into shadow.
Given time, she earned its trust.
It would lean against her side and she would run her hands through its icy fur. She brought it treats that it would never take, but when she called, it came. But only at night.
‘Who left you here?’ she would wonder as it bowed and bounded in play.… Read more
She played late into the night and then later still, ignorant of the shadows pressing in on all sides, uncaring of the heaviness of her limbs or the life set to resume in a few hours.
For her, there was only the quest, only the character on the screen, only the voices of her guildmates, intense in her ears.
The shadows crowded closer as her eyelids drooped, their inky hands reaching for the keyboard.
When her head hung and a snore rose up in her throat, they gently nudged her aside and finished the raid.
‘Yes!’ a player crowed in her ear.… Read more
In support of the kickstarter for BOOKS & BONE (which funded! EEK!) I did a series of faux non-fiction toots on Mastodon detailing ghost research. Hopefully you’ll enjoy it!
5 Types of Household Ghosts
1. When you sneeze and nobody is there to say ‘bless you’, this ghost appears. It is a small, shy ghost that jumps at loud noises. It likes to play with your cat, who can see it, and it tickles your dog while they sleep.
It doesn’t usually remain for more than a few hours, but will usually tidy something away before it goes.
2.… Read more
In support of the kickstarter for BOOKS & BONE, I played a game on Mastodon where people could name a plant to me, and in exchange I would write a toot-sized (or tweet-sized) spooky-sweet encounter. The encounter was not necessarily related to the plant.
Here are the results. I hope you enjoy them!
Image by Sunflair, under Pixabay License.
You try the door handle, but something pricks your fingertip. You hold up your hand as blood wells, strangely thick and dark.
There is no sign of what hurt you, and you enter easily.
Blood drips on the table as you set down your keys; it splashes and spreads into a plate-sized plane of red.… Read more
She’d heard that on a certain day, at a certain time, you could meet your own ghost haunting the graveyard at St Mary’s.
In the hour before dawn, she stood beside the church’s yew tree, hands tucked under her armpits, cloudy breath mixing with the pre-dawn mist. Her gaze hovered uncertainly on every shadow and shifting light.
When at last the ghost appeared, it was as a being of trailing fog with eyes like fire, but a familiar face.
‘I’m sorry,’ the girl whispered. ‘I didn’t know — I needed someone to –‘
Gently, the ghost embraced her, one spectral hand stroking her hair, the other gripping her shoulder.… Read more
Every day, she saw them out of the corner of her eye. A person, crowned, in robes of sweeping gold.
Sitting in the empty chair in her office, leaning in the kitchen doorway, standing in the cinema aisle. Always vanishing on a closer look.
She feared the royal, at first. They made a question of her sanity, or else of her safety.
But one week passed, then two, then ten. They became familiar. A company felt even when unseen.
At last, returning home with tears on her cheeks and a black feeling in her chest, she whispered to her empty home: ‘Are you there, royal?’
She thought she heard a whisper, but could not make out the words.… Read more
Another microfiction for Mastodon.
She pricked her finger on the crooked needle and let the blood drip and swirl into the bowl below.
It clouded pink, then cleared.
She gripped the sides of the bowl with tight hands as an image resolved. A tatter-eared dog trotted through fields of smoke beneath a white sky, then paused and sniffed the air. It looked right at her, and barked, ears coming forward.
‘I miss you,’ she whispered.
Then came shouts and shuffling feet. She overturned the bowl and fled.
Image by Yuri_B, used under CC0.… Read more
Another microfiction written for Mastodon. I hope you enjoy it!
‘I just wish I had someone to talk to,’ I said to my reflection.
‘Me too,’ she replied.
I froze. A hundred horror scenes came back to me in a rush, a thousand alternative world plots-turned disaster. But she looked as tired as I felt, and my own hope was reflected in her eyes.
She put her hand on the mirror. I took it, and drew her through. She gasped like she was surfacing from deep underwater.
We talked long into the night. Our troubles were much the same, but viewed from different angles.… Read more
‘I think … I think maybe I’m in love with a ghost,’ he told his sister one morning.
They’d met at a café for breakfast, as they often did. His eyes were low. She watched him, her mouth twisting to one side. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I didn’t think ghosts existed.’
‘She’s … I don’t know how to explain it.’ He ruffled his hair. ‘I only get glimpses of her. Long hair. An impression of a shape. She only appears at the river, at night.’
She folded her hands in her lap and tried to keep her expression smooth. She never wanted her brother to think he couldn’t talk to her.… Read more