Musings and wanderings in the Daemon Wastes...

Tag: Fiction

More random creativity…

Last night I was struck by an idea, and I got it out on the nearest thing to hand, which was, but seeing as no one sees what I put there, I thought that I would put it here as well and then hopefully 4 or 5 people will see it… 😉


There was not a lot of life out on the street that night. Normally when Frank stepped out of his building to have a late-night smoke he was immediately plunged into a hustle and bustle that would rival SoHo in New York or Soho in London, not that anyone often spoke in raptured tones about the fact that Makati is another city that usually does not sleep.

He looked around, wondering where everybody was. Sure if it had been late at night on Easter Saturday, or New Years or Christmas Day, times when the city was indeed quiet; quiet like a ghost town in fact, then there would have been no puzzle to solve. As it was, the year was already in full swing, and yet here he was on a street that was dead by comparison even to those special times. He could not hear a single vehicle – normally he could hear traffic noise up on the thirty-seventh floor, even in the wee small hours of the night. The guards were there, and they did not seem confused, perhaps he was imagining it.

He lit his cigarette and leaned back against the cool concrete, looking up at the stars through the architectural forest of the high rises, trying to shake the odd feeling and to enjoy the tranquility of the moment. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He considered leaving it there, surely there was nothing that could not wait until he had finished his smoke – it was just after two? He took another drag and was just relaxing once more when the phone nudged him again. He dug it out of his pocket and unlocked the screen, expecting to see an alert from someone in the UK who knew the time difference well enough, but also knew him well enough to know that he would be awake.

He had not expected it to be a couple of texts from Georgie.

Halloween Story

I’ll never forget that night. The rain was pouring down so hard it sounded as though pebbles were hitting the roof. As I lay in my bed, trying to steel my nerve to go out in that rain and concede the fight with my bladder I tried to take some small comfort in how relaxing it would be to come back and drift off to sleep to that wonderful sound. There was little so soothing as hard rain coming down on the cabin roof. Eventually the urge became too great and I headed out into the night.

The lamp I carried with me cast eerie shadows around the clearing as I made my way to the outhouse. If I had not been so familiar with the place it would have been more than a little scary, but the camp was like home; I was not afraid. As I stepped into the middle of the clearing I saw that the old maple stump was not the right size and shape, and then as the light played across it I realised that a squat figure was crouched on the top of it. I suppose I should have known that something was wrong at that point, but I was half awake. The small figure was hooded, and as it sensed the lamp’s passing, it turned towards me and all I could see was the light reflected in a wide and toothy grin that snapped me back into the moment; I had never seen such sharp and bright teeth.

“Good evening, Thomasss. I wonder if I can interessst you in a little proposssition?”

Its sibilant tongue played across the daggers of his teeth, and though my mind was screaming that what was most likely some kind of woodland spirit was talking to me in the dead of night, and all was not well with the world, I found myself nodding and then heard my self saying “Yes?”, my stunned gaze held by the almond shaped, yellow eyes that flashed above that mouth full of blades.

“Take a ssseat.”

He motioned behind me and a seat made of living wood erupted from the clearing floor. I staggered back onto it, left only with my fear, and started to wonder what I had stumbled into and how I could escape.

“My name isss Robin, and I need your help which, if rendered willingly, I will repay with a handsome gift.”

His voice was compelling and dripping with unspoken threats. I nodded, free will having quit the transom of my mind, chased away by a cold, primal fear that I could not withstand.

“I need one of your eyesss, and three drops of your blood. Shall I give you the knife, or do I need to take thessse things for myssself?”

I looked down at my hand. There was a small silver knife in my palm, its curved silver blade leaving no doubt as to its sharpness, the light glinting off the edge like ice on fire.

© 2024 TechnoMage

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑