“What day is it?” she asked. “Friday.” I caught a shadow of a smile behind Olivia’s fluttering eyes. “That’s good. I like Fridays.” “What do you remember?” She shrugged, and let her head fall back against the pillows. “Being here. I remember you, sort of. But it’s a bit like a dream. Where did you… Continue reading Flash Fiction – Cry Wolf
Harris adjusted her glasses and squared her shoulders before knocking on the door. Lewis was the kind of man who found it easy to ignore small people. Today, her goal was to make herself big, at least in his eyes. She rapped three times. From the other side, a gruff grunt came in response; a… Continue reading Flash Fiction: Crash Landing
Ellie, in the trance-like state that had become too familiar to her over the recent months, patiently watched as her own hand swished the paintbrush across the canvas in broad strokes. When the image finally revealed itself to her, she sat before it and wondered how she would go about telling yet another stranger that… Continue reading Micro Fiction (Two Line Tuesday) – Conundrum
With wide-eyed fear, Jordie listened to all the bumps in the night; the way the old floor boards below creaked and clicked and clacked with liveliness. After 120 years, she realized, the Living had come home to haunt her. © Shyla Fairfax-Owen
As a boy, he was told his imagination was big and bright and beautiful; but as a teenager, people seemed a lot more troubled by it. As an adult, he learned to keep secrets, deciding that no one else had to know about the tiny little elves and centaurs that lived in his backyard --… Continue reading Micro Fiction (Two Line Tuesdays) – The Truth Keeper
It was so strange, she thought, that the villains in fairy tales were all ugly old women or wolves that could talk. After all, Daddy wasn't either of those things. © Shyla Fairfax-Owen
(358 words) She didn't want to wake up.
(895 words) Juliette's eyes spring open in a panic. The vein along her neck throbs, pumping the blood hard and fast. A firework of pain explodes inside of her mind and her spine wrenches, thrusting her chest towards the sky.
Imogen rolled the crochet hook between her thumb and forefinger, chewing the inside of her cheek. Her grandmother's stitches were so precise, so intentional; she couldn't help but worry her clumsy fingers would ruin them.
Hi All! I am re-posting two of my own Halloween-themed stories below. The first one, Jack, is from last year, and the second is Little Monster, from this year. I hope you enjoy them (again). Jack “Step 1: Dissect” Mary moved the instructions out of her way and set to work. The knife was efficient;… Continue reading Two Short Halloween Stories