The Scratching

The cats and dogs were the first to react. All over the world, pets went crazy, barking, yowling, generally freaking out for no discernible reason. Then people started to hear it too. The scratching. Almost inaudible, coming from everywhere and nowhere. It took only a few days for social media to catch on, and fear and confusion swept the globe. It was everywhere. Soon, tiny scratches were appearing on every imaginable surface. Buildings, trees, cars, electronics,nothing was safe. Soon, the world was in chaos, as no remedy was forthcoming for what seemed an otherwordly ailment.


Then people started to be scratched. Tiny marks, at first, not even splitting the skin. But as the days went by, hospitals began to fill with lacerated and terrified individuals, bleeding from innumerable tiny wounds with no source. Other animals were affected too, but nobody cared any more. The world died in pain and bewilderment. No answer was forthcoming as the scratching consumed us all.


The Follower

This is an exerpt from a short story I am working on.

Deep in the darkness above, an emaciated creature stared blindly with huge, limpid eyes as the small human made its way into the darkness. It sniffed the air lustfully through slitted nostrils on its otherwise featureless face, almost drooling at the power that wafted through the dusty air. The creature waited a few moments before scampering down the pillar silently and following in the boys footsteps, clear in the dust.

As it crept forward, 20 or 30 metres behind and matching pace with the boy, it siphoned fears and memories from the child’s subconcious. As the non-descript creature learned, it changed. Soon it walked confidently after the boy on two human legs, mouth twisting in a smile that belonged on no human face.




The heart wants what the heart wants. She pondered on this as she watched her hero, her muse, twisting and cavorting on stage. Her heart knew what her heart wanted, and today it would receive it’s gift. It was glad. 

Later, as she hunched in a pool of congealing blood, the phrase came back to her, and she giggled around a mouthful of chewy flesh. Suddenly, she jumped to her feet, the half-chewed organ clutched  tight in her hand, and tracked bloody footprints into her sanctuary. She gazed around, for the millionth time, at her beautiful creation. Pictures, news items, hand-scribbled notes, set-lists, all connected in a vast and tangled web of heart-lines. Just one space left, in a whole room full of desire. She placed the mangled heart into its place, and watched the blood spread across her network. 

It’s what the heart wanted.