Category Archives: fantasy

Falling Stars – Flash Fiction

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With a finger tracing over her skin, she connected the freckles, dot to dot on her arm, tracing out the constellation that she used to be a part of. A constellation forever changed because she was no longer apart of it; but there it was, upon her skin, preserving its place in history. A nod to how it was.
Looking around, she took in the sight of her surroundings. For so long she had glanced down upon the earth from her place in the heavens, and now she was looking at the earth from within it.
She didn’t know what to do with herself now. A life lived up in the skies and then suddenly banished.

*****

Exploring her new surroundings, she quickly got used to her new legs. She traversed through hillsides and woodland for several days before she happened upon any native humans. Spent her days walking and her nights admiring her sisters from a different point of view.
When she came across a small village, she found the natives to be very friendly, even if she didn’t always understand what it was they actually meant. The women got her bathed and gave her new robes to wear, like she was a doll to play with. Everybody was interested in her, asking lots of questions. They had never met an actual star before.
“What are you doing here then, and not up there?” asked one gentleman, pointing skyward.
“Well, I was banished” she stated, thinking this should’ve been general knowledge.
“how can a star be banished?” asked another
Her face grew sad, “I’d started to collapse,” she spoke softly, “I would’ve gone eventually, but on my own terms and in my own way – out with a bang and not a fizzle. They don’t want you breaking formation unless it’s on their terms though”

[304 words]

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Filed under based on writing exercises, creative writing, fairytale, fantasy, flash fiction

A Writer’s World

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The stark white and brightness of the café melted away the more she wrote. Leaving behind the real world, she entered her own of peace and solitude; her pen dutifully scribbling down the realms and worlds of her imagination, desperately trying to keep up.

Her soul had taken a leap, and even though the pages were white, streaked with black marks it was swimming amongst vivd backdrops and creations. Worlds of colour and imagination engulfed her – a high contrast to the realities that surround her physical being.

Whilst everybody around her was carrying on with their mundane routines, an hour for a boring sandwich and a scroll through Facebook, she was amongst heroes and villains, surreal creatures and topsy turvy paradises. Her senses, her mind, her heart were alive!

She travelled through time and space; to far off countries and amongst the stars; all from an uncomfortable plastic seat in a kind of ok café.

She orchestrated melodies; directed her company of characters; bringing life or destroying it.

The only thing to distract her, to bring her worlds to a grinding halt, was a young man who clumsily sat down at the table next to her. She felt aggrieved – hated being disturbed but instantly tried to get back into the flow. She took a deep breath, ready to dive back in, when she glanced over and noticed that this man was pulling a book from his oversized bag.

She watched as he became engulfed in this work of literature. In her mind’s eye a stream of golden light glowed up from the pages he was reading; a new world radiating from leaves of a tree long gone, absorbing him, attaching itself to his soul.

She couldn’t stay silently mad at this person who had disturbed her. She felt an affinity with him, a shared interest in words, in getting lost, of forgetting the real world.

She smiled at him when he glanced up and then went back to the world of her notebook, content in the knowledge that there were people in the world similar to her; that she was never truly alone.

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Growing Up

All children must eventually grow up.

Some mature faster than others but it happens to them all. You just cannot stop it. As time moves forward, speeding through the present, making every second history, children get older. They become disinterested in their passions, swapping and changing them on a whim. Developing, learning, growing. Not so innocent anymore; maybe a little jaded.

They leave behind their toys, and fascination of everything, but first of all he’ll forget about me, the imaginary friend.

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It started of slowly – one day he simply didn’t talk to me as much as he usually did. A little time passed and then there would be the odd days when he wouldn’t talk to me at all. These days became more common. I was still in his mind but he was unwilling to talk, to play; he was bored of me. He ignored me.

I’ll never forget the day that his auntie asked him if he still had an imaginary friend, her voice filled with an evil laughter. My eyes immediately looked over at him, waiting hopefully for him to recognise my existence again. He simply blushed and looked down at his feet whilst the grown-ups carried on their conversation. I could do nothing but walk out of the room, storming passed him, but still going unnoticed.

All of the time I had spent with that boy, playing with him, talking to him, being there for him when he felt all alone and that’s how he treats me. Too good for me now, too mature; doesn’t matter that I’m the one whose all alone now.

I can’t stay mad at him though. When he’s at school, I’ve noticed that a few of the other kids have imaginary friends that they are ignoring as well. It’s just the way it is, nothing personal.

The day will come when they will forget us completely. They won’t be able to recall our names, or the silly things we used to do together.

I’ve spoken to one of the other imaginary friends and he feels the exact same way, scared of what will happen next. Does another child choose us to be their friend? Do we just spend eternity doing nothing? Or, do we simply cease to exist?

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Filed under based on writing exercises, creative writing, fantasy, flash fiction, Uncategorized

28/365 – Charity Shop Blues

Day 28 – A little something inspired by my purchase of a book in a charity shop. Hope you like it…

I sit here, rejected, on this shelf, surrounded by others who have been rejected too. Not good enough, not loved enough, maybe never even loved at all. We look out at the new world around us; gone is the security of home, in its place a cold dusty shelf; made to wait for the offer of a new love. The lucky ones get picked up within days, sometimes hours of being put on the shelf; for the unlucky, it could be weeks. Most of the time we’re just ignored, but whenever anyone comes near, we collectively hold our breath, hoping that one of us will be picked. We’ll be happy for those who are selected but secretly jealous and disappointed that we weren’t the chosen ones. Personally, I’m not sure I will ever be picked; I’m tatty looking, falling apart; I’m destined to remain on the shelf, untouched, unread, whilst the others, one by one, will be given a second chance at love, re-homed, to be read over and over again.

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14/365 – The Mystery of Sunny Day Care

Day 14 – A friend of mine gave me the idea for this piece. Inspired by my job cleaning a children’s nursery. It’s my second piece about a nursery in 4 days, so definately going to branch out more for my settings in the future.

Every morning when the nursery nurses of Sunny Day Care arrived they would find the place in a complete state of disarray. Toys would be scattered everywhere; paint would be dripping off every available surface; and their paperwork would be torn and shredded. It would be a complete nightmare, and wasn’t a very good thing for the parents to be seeing when they came to drop off their little monsters. An absolutely horrible day ensued, juggling childcare and cleaning the tip the nursery had become overnight.

The first time it happened, everybody pointed their finger at the cleaner, the last person to leave the nursery at the end of the day. She pleaded innocence but the management quickly disposed of her; sending her away to a jobless existence; they weren’t going to believe her when it was obviously her; it could not have been anybody else.

When it happened for a second time, they all blamed the cleaner again, suggesting she had a copy of the key and did it because she was angry at being sacked; but that theory didn’t explain why she would have done it in the first place.

It happened many more times, with the management even contacting the police, wanting them to search the cleaner’s possessions for the key. However, there was no key to be found.

The owner of the nursery finally decided to place hidden cameras around the place to film any nightly activities. What they showed the next morning was astonishing. The staff would not have believed it if they weren’t looking at cold hard proof.

The cause of the nightly shenanigans, the perpetrator, the one causing chaos at this little neighbourhood nursery… a beanbag.

A somehow enchanted beanbag would stir, as if it was awaking and then proceed to trash the nursery; spoiling the children’s artwork, breaking toys, toppling the bins over. The beanbag seemed to hate the nursery with a passion, enjoying its rampage of the place. Trashing everything from dusk until dawn.

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