Crime Scene Short story by Iris Carden We’d been called by a neighbour, who’d heard the commotion. The victim, a woman in her 30s, was lying unconscious on the floor. Around her, the room was in chaos. A two-metre high mahogany bookshelf had been knocked over, books strewn everywhere. Only a leather lounge and a…… Continue reading Crime Scene
Mr Bumpy is Human Poem by Iris Carden Today I’ll be a human, because that’s what I choose. I’ll start my day with coffee, and I’ll watch the TV news. I won’t go to the garden to just to lie out in the sun, and I won’t go climbing tress, even though it’s lots of…… Continue reading Mr Bumpy is Human
Life Support Short story by Iris Carden She woke slowly. The pain at the back of her head was black, overwhelming, drawing her in, like a black hole pulling everything into itself. “Open your eyes”, she commanded herself. She tried to obey her own demand. Slowly she opened her eyes. Stark, white light burned its…… Continue reading Life Support
When I picked up my tray on the other side, however, a security officer stopped me. “What’s that for?” she asked. She picked up a small spring that had somehow become hooked on my bag.
Since I started this blog, I’ve found that while I’m busy writing short stories and poetry for the blog, and short stories for competitions, my current major work in progress hasn’t been, well, progressing. Before I started the blog, I had three chapters of The Venomous Void, the sequel to Wendy Watchitt, written. As of…… Continue reading Work in Progress
Am I the Donkey Crater? by Fantasia Dog Reddit has a section called “AITA?” That stands for “Am I the A….?” (That A is a rude word that combines words meaning “donkey” and “crater”.) People type in their stories, and other people tell them whether or not they’re a donkey crater. Usually people write in…… Continue reading Am I the Donkey Crater?
School Camp Short story by Iris Carden Grade six school camp was an adventure, something I’ll never forget. I was the fat, slow kid. I had no friends, just didn’t belong. I’d been bullied for my entire five and a half years in that school and had absolutely no friends. Grade sixes and sevens from…… Continue reading School Camp
Poem by Iris Carden Collar bell jingles, soft paw pats her ball, Princess is playing her way down the hall. She wiggles her bum as she targets a pounce, knocks things off the shelf to see if they bounce. She leaps into a lap for a moment or two, but can’t stay there when there’s…… Continue reading Princess
“Well, I don’t believe in letting bullies win. Do you?” Mum said.
Blood Short story by Iris Carden It was the third body in three days. All were exsanguinated, all with their throats ripped out, but minimal blood at the scene. I looked at the Head of Security, Stockton. She shook her head. No. They’d found nothing to say who or what was doing it. “If I…… Continue reading Blood