All stories

Seb

by Liz

The sun was at its highest point of the day as it mercilessly beat down on the caravan of weary travellers. Journeying by camel had taken three days already and there was still a good day ahead of them. The trail was only visible to the dark eyes of their guide. Having grown up in these barren lands, the shifting dunes were old friends waving their greeting as he drove on through the hundreds of miles of sand.

Sitting atop a camel did not come naturally to Seb, despite years of horse riding in his youth. The decision to take two months off work, to leave his family and friends, to throw himself into this endeavor was not an easy one but he had to do it. For twenty years he had roamed statue lined museum corridors, buried himself under mounds of text books researching the true origins of the ancient text he had to find. His obsession had taken family holidays away from the usual Spanish coastline or French camp grounds. Instead he dragged his weary wife and children to remote villages at the furthest corners of the world in the hope of finding the holder of those treasured letters.

His guide pulled the camels rope reins hard causing the caravan to stop. The raised arm which had been protecting the sun from his scarred eyes extended out to point to a shimmering dot on the horizon.

“Is that is?’ Seb cried eagerly. “Tell me that’s it”

His parched and crusted lips trembled as he squinted to see the distant village. “How far?”

“One day” the guide responded solemnly.

“Surely we can make it there by night fall?” Seb replied.

“No, we must shelter. The camels need water and the winds are changing. A storm may be coming.”

“But we are so close”

The guide dropped from his seat and pulled his steed towards the ground. “We stop here”.

Reluctantly Seb dismounted and joined his guide in setting up cover. Why was it such slow progress? His treasure was nearly within reach, he could not bear it.

The winds did indeed whip up and within an hour they were partially submerged in a drift that had appeared from nowhere. The guide fought to secure their cover for four hours before the gods of the dunes relented and ceased their bombardment. By nightfall all was calm again and having eaten a sparse meal, Seb settled in to his bed, keen to get an early night for a long and emotional day tomorrow. He pulled out his battered journal and a pen and entered his daily confession:

We are so close, I can feel that this is the right place. This is the right time. I will have the ancient writing by tomorrow, patience. I know people think I am crazy but they will see…they will see when I have the most treasured papers in the world.

Madimals

by Lewis

The corridors were wide with tall smooth unassailably high walls. Individual tracks stretching as far as can be be seen. Inside each one a gemoan waited; huge and monstrously beautiful. The roofless tracks ran for 400 kilometres, broken up into different sections ranging from desert hills to raging rivers.

Karu ran in lane 21; A former great, far from her glory days and unknown to her considered close to ‘retirement’. A mix of Lion and Cheater with 2 giant hare legs which tucked under the belly while running, but could enable her to jump huge distances when needed. Her body had a long thick scar running down the whole length of the right hand side. The fight with Ghenkhan the rhino-raptor was still talked about, in some schoolyards. Her faded sleek fur masked a mass of muscle and rage while her eagle eyes scanned the horizon and hyena strength jaws snapped eagerly. Every part of her was modified for this race.

The stands floated deceptively serenely above the starting pits. A small city offering everything you could need for a day at the races, even luxury food outlets which sold real food that was grown in the ground; an expensive treat. The boxes followed directly above throughout the day so those rich enough could see their animals in person, cheering or jeering their gemoan of choice as gambled fortunes tumbled and fell.

The horn sounded clear and bright cutting through the hubbub of the crowds. In an instant every beast was crouched ready. By the time the second horn had faded the animals were out of sight of the regular crowds, eyes instantly turning to their screens.

The first section, which was an open sprint put the running designs ahead. But then suddenly the earth rumbled, the ground split apart, huge chasms appeared tearing the green fields asunder and sending the crowds into roars of wonder.

In lane 3 an antelope creature unexpectantly mistimed his jump. A cheer went up for the first of the fallen and a howl from one of the boxes. Not everyone would enjoy the day.

Each corridor had a giant statue shaped as a traditional animal which indicted the start of the next section. It glowed red when a creature fell. 5 sections in and 15 statues glowed.

By midway Karu had fallen back, she had faced falling trees, giant snakes, torn apart a crazed bear 20m tall and leapt through the fire desert, but she was old now and cautious. Her owner had already used one Adrenalin shot and she bled from multiple wounds. But she could not stop. The race was on and it was all she knew.

A moan from the crowd as horse hound Redfang, was crushed by one of the falling boulders. Then there were new favourites to be made.

By the second to last stage there were three contenders left. Agean the winged wolf who leapt and glided across the course, Ceaser9, the 9 limbed monkey whose 3 extra tails were as strong as legs, and whose claws were vice like and razor Sharp, and Karu.

Then complete darkness fell.

The cameras showed every thing in perfect detail of course. But the 3 remaining creatures were thrown into confusion. This first-time addition had sent the crowds wild with excitement. Agean never even saw the blades. They sliced through her wings and she crashed to the floor. Somehow still running to the crowds delight but slower. Fading. Bleeding.

Ceaser9 was quicker seeming to relish the dark, swinging and bounding forward. A small knowing smile on his owners face. 5 kilometres to go. Karu’s now gold-eyed owner grimaced and hit a button on his control. Karus whole body was flooded with Adrenalin. It was like a lighting storm inside her skin. Each paw felt electric. She leapt forward, closer, closer. She knew she could not, would not stop. This...was what she was made for.

The vetenary described it as Bilateral heart failure. Her owner just looked disgusted. The twitching body would be collected later to be reused. Nothing was wasted here. There were more races to be won. Money to be made. And all the time the cries of the champion Ceaser9 washed away the fading memory of a forgotten legend.

I didn't expect a sort of relentless badger

by Beth

Kira crept down the stairs and out into the fading light. Tall bushes and willowy trees lined the edges of the lane that ran like a dark corridor, up the hill to the big house. Kira could just make out the shadowy edges in the distance. Kira took and deep breath and a few light steps forward. She knew she shouldn’t be out on her own, but she was dying to see Tommy. She looked from side to side taking in every leaf flicker and every tiny scrub of the soles of her shoes as she skimmed over the dirt beneath. With every step away from the workshop her heart beat a little faster.

Kira looked back over her shoulder as the last sliver of yolk-orange sun disappeared. She picked up the pace. A loud crashing in the bushes to her right suddenly stopped her in her tracks. She froze, statue-like. The crashing got louder, closer and a low snarling rose up around her. Kira started to run, as fast as she could, her legs burning, the breath ripping from her throat. The crashing and snarling got louder and louder. She glanced back as the beast broke from the bushes and set its black eyes on her. With a loud growl, it charged. Kira ran and ran, tears were streaming down her face. Her heart was pounding; the hill was getting steeper. She tried to focus on the big house up ahead, becoming clearer and clearer, but then she tripped. She slammed into the dirt, wrists jarring, her head bounced off the ground. Before she knew it the weight of the huge slathering badger was upon her. She screamed and struggled as it snapped a scarred jaw at her, trying to sink huge yellow teeth into her neck. The weight and hot stink was almost overwhelming. Kira got one arm free and stabbed at the badger’s eyes as hard as she could with her skinny fingers. She felt the warm wet rush as an eyeball gave way. The badger threw his head back in a howl and Kira used the momentum to roll out from underneath it. She scrabbled to her feet, the badger came at her again, but she managed to dance out of its reach. She ran and ran, she could hear the badger snarling behind as it chased her up the hill. She ran through the gate to the big house and slammed it behind her. It caught the badger on the shoulder, it stumbled, but still it came at her. She ran up the steps and reached the big door. She fumbled to get the fob out of her pocket, buzzed the door and jumped through. The door closed automatically behind her just as the badger reached it. She sunk to the cold floor, her whole body felt like it was on fire. Just as she breathed out a long sigh, glass shattered to her left as the badger crashed through the window.

Urgh could it really be Monday again? I swear Saturdays and Sundays are shorter than weekdays. Dragging myself into the shower I contemplated the week ahead. An endless stream of carting internal BS between arrogant middle managers and jumped up secretaries. And the pressure, as if anyone’s life would be impacted in the slightest way if that memo didn’t reach Tracy in accounts before morning coffee rather than after.

Enough. Just get it done. Five days and I’d be back on the mountains. It was the only reason I stuck the tedium at Fulton financial corporation. Lancaster was a shit-hole, but an hour to the Lake District and two to Scafell Pike. That crag made it all worthwhile.

Clocking in at 8:57 I collected the first batch of internal memos from my pigeon hole and began my route. Finance and Operations, Personnel and Enrichment (why not just call yourself HR for goodness sake, everyone knows your jobs out-bullshit even mine!), IT, then off to the big-jobs. Collect and deliver, smile and nod. ‘Oh this one is really important is it? I’ll make sure not to wipe my ass on it this time’.

Sally in Personnel and Enrichment. Always a high point of the day. She had the cutest little scar on her forehead. When I was bored (when wasn’t I?) I’d invent stories about where it had come from. It started simple - same way I got mine, right? Falling off a climbing frame in school, obvs. Too boring, It was the only unclothed evidence of a history of childhood abuse? No. she was too bubbly to be a child-abuse victim. Maybe she got it protecting a younger sister from a bully when she was 15. I liked the heroism of this one… Odds were, I knew, she’d gotten drunk and fallen off that bloody statue of Eric Morcambe on a hen party by the sea, but I couldn’t imagine her drunk and leary so I persisted in my dreaming.

She handed me a folded memo. ‘Suzie’, she whispered, ‘this one’s a bit personal. I know it’s not allowed, but…’

I took the note, and slipped it into Bob, the CEO’s, pile of memorandum. I guess she thought that being a girl meant that I’d ‘understand’, that those smiles I cast her way were simple camaraderie and friendship. Little did she know I dreamt of proposing to her at the crux of Ringwriath.

I took the west corridor towards the offices of the higher level of management. Glancing up and down, non-one to be seen, I unfolded the memo.

‘2nd floor stairwell. 3:15pm. S. xxx’

Hmmm… no addressee. This could be interesting. But whose pile to slip it into? Jimmy, our director of comms? Nah, he’d never take the bait. What about Nelson, head of IT? Might be the only thrill in his week. Why not.. In went the memo. I continued my rounds, smiling smugly to myself that today’s drudgery might, at least, be a little less relentless.

Sweet flesh

by Jenny

Sweet Flesh

Pressing his scarred, unshaven face up against the hole in the wall, Herbert’s breathing was fast and loud, catching in his throat in anticipation. Behind him the school was dark and silent, the corridor stretching long and empty behind him. If anyone came he’d have plenty of time to back away and hide his open trousers behind his janitor’s trolley. He knew what he was doing.

And so he relaxed. This was Herbert’s favourite time - the girls had finished netball club five minutes ago - he’d watched them cluster and head towards the changing room; a herd of silky soft hair and impossibly smooth skin. Soon the door would open and the girls would pour in like bubbles in an overflowing glass of champagne.

Herbert waited eagerly for it to begin: the squeak of the shower tap, the rush of soap-scented steam, the rustle of clothes, the sweet voices and sweeter flesh slowly uncovered.

But tonight was different, tonight the air seemed charged with a different kind of excitement.

It began as usual; laughter, undressing, chatting. Herbert pressed himself hard into the wall, ready. And then it was if all of his dreams had come true - that perky little brunette and the adorable blond were suddenly kissing each other - right there by his spy hole as all their classmates stared, fascinated.

A hushed silence fell over the changing room and Herbert held his breath, still as a statue, not wanting to peak too soon. Gymslips dropped to the floor, hair swished, fingertips caressed flesh. It could have been lifted straight from one of his videotapes. It was almost too much.

Only then Herbert hearing a creak, noticed the toilet door creeping slowly, slowly open, a large, dark figure emerging - it wasn’t a teenage girl, that was obvious. Something about the awkward, lumbering way it moved was horribly wrong, somehow...

And then the door banged open and an enormous shape appeared. Herbert flung himself back from his spyhole appalled, certain he’d seen - but surely not - tentacles?

Their screams rang out high, terrified and he bolted. He ran, trousers unbuttoned, forgetting his trolley, straight out into the schoolyard, straight into the deputy head.

“Mr Travers, what is going on?” she asked, astonished

“”The girls - something… in the changing room” he gasped “you have to help them.”

“Well they look fine to me” she said, as a troupe of girls tumbled happily out into the yard.

“Everything alright girls?”

“Yes Mrs Jeffries”

“But, I saw...” he sputtered.

“What, exactly did you see? And how, exactly, were you seeing anything inside the girls changing room, Mr Travers?”

Her eyes dropped to his gaping trousers and her face screwed up, disgusted “girls, go home. I need to talk to Mr Travers”

The girls bundled off together, a picture of innocence. Except for one pretty blond girl, who turned to tip Herbert a long, slow wink before skipping off with her friends. Poking from her backpack Herbert noticed the end of what looked like a long, rubber tentacle.