+

My Summer Foe

What is the purpose of a fly? Seriously. And by that I am referring to the common housefly that multiplies by the millions when heat and humidity come together to form a force of weather known colloquially in my homeland as ‘this bloody heat’. I’m sure that there is a perfectly reasonable biological explanation for the existence of these little buggers. Probably several considering that the word fly actually refers to an entire genus of species but right now, after weeks of listening to the sound of buzzing as they trespass upon my space and sanity, I care not for the logic of science. 

Even as I am writing this, one of them has decided to intrude. Flying back and forth. Over here and over there. Near the window. Near the door. By the television and on the floor. Bah and meh in equal measure! The agitation brought forth by this feckless fiend is even causing me to write in rhyme and I’ve not the time to adequately describe these sentiments as couplets of poetry in my mind. Curse you fly for your unintentional and grating effect upon my thoughts. Do you not see how you inconvenience me?! Bastard!  Continue reading “My Summer Foe”

+

Four Oars to Distant Shores

Thunder claps in the greying sky as the merchant ship Garnet continues its voyage to the trade city of Solharbour although unknown to its captain and company, they are missing a few items of value and some crew mates.

‘Ouch!’

‘What’s wrong Jasper?’

Jasper loosens his grip on the oar of the rowboat and holds out his palm as a sharp snap cracks his fingers.

‘Ah, shit Eunan, it’s starting to hail. Why did we get off just now? Couldn’t we have waited until we were closer to port?’

‘If we had waited any longer, the deck hands of the dawn shift would have found us. You’re a noisy git sometimes. I’m surprised you didn’t wake up the entire crew dragging all of that into the boat.’

After a few relatively uneventful months sailing under the employ of the Merchant Guild, these two men of many trades decided that they’d had enough of cleaning pots and cooking meals for their ‘stuck up and stingy with the ale’ merchant captain. Three days, four oars and a rowboat later, they came to the collective decision to relieve their former ship of some of its cumbersome valuables and plentiful supplies and set out in the dead of night to make a profit with the intention of lining their own pockets for once.

‘Wait, why are we sinking?’ asks Eunan with a puzzled frown. Continue reading “Four Oars to Distant Shores”

+

Broken in Bastion

His fingers are trembling but not because he is cold. His mind is racing though he cannot pick one thought from another. Through hazy eyes this naked man, covered in soot and the filth of dead creatures, sits huddled in the corner of a mineshaft as he struggles to come to terms with where he is. A hundred questions are battling for focus through his head but he hasn’t the sense to comprehend them, let alone have the clarity to give himself time to stop and figure something, anything out.

‘Pick it up.’

A voice, near to him yet it may as well be a mile away, pierces the veil of his stupor.

‘They’re coming fool. Grab your axe and get to work.’

The naked man looks down to see the outline of a tool in the dark. A worn, jagged pickaxe at his feet. There is a puncture wound on the base of his foot. Did he step on it? He feels no pain. He can see no blood. Just the slight sense that there is something amiss, something wrong. Not that he can make it out through the thick layer of grime coating most of his lower body.

‘Will you come to your god’s damned senses and grab your fucking axe now or you’ll end up like that poor sod behind you.’

Continue reading “Broken in Bastion”

%d bloggers like this: