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His hollow eyes stared accusingly. The dark side of his face covered by brutal scars inflicted on the unfortunate victim. Blood, white chalk and yellow tape decorated the decayby Thoughtcrime 2300 words, 5 comments, on Mar 3 6:25 PM 2005. In <200 lines, Crime, Depression, Fiction
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It’s raining outside and you can hear it pattering, you can hear a lot of things. People talk while coffee machines vomit out their insides
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After leaving behind the glorious memories of the Ftn Network, your finger arrives on another great relic of our modern age; ITV 2:ITV Playby Thoughtcrime 500 words, on Oct 2 1:01 PM 2006. In Fiction, Humor, Other, Second person, Short story/prose, Social commentar
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I tried many things. I tried a myriad of self-help books, tapes, sessions and circles of people with similar problems, but like the triangl
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And so you open your eyes and you see. Faces surround from above; a panorama of smiles, laughs, all worthy of photographs. ‘Coochie-Coo!’
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I open my eyes and I see...
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‘‘So what are you going to do about him Mavis? He’s been dead for a week,’’ said John Smith. ‘‘Oh blimey, has it been a week already? Time flies doesn’t it?’’ Mavis Said. ‘‘Yes
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Richmond Building, C floor, half past noon, frequenting the coffee shop. Line's short, thoughts evaluating the benefits of shortbread over overpriced sandwiches, deciding on sh
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Once upon a time, industry gave birth to consumer culture and rather than going out to hunt for our food, we picked it up from supermarkets. The supermarket is like a market buby Thoughtcrime 600 words, 8 comments, on Nov 21 11:47 AM 2005. In <200 lines, Fantasy, Fiction, Humor
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Early morning start, 9.00am. Shower, eat toast, fry eggs, drink coffee. First appointment’s at eleven. Catherine’s on her free at the colleby Thoughtcrime 500 words, 12 comments, on Oct 13 11:51 AM 2005. In Characterisation, Fiction, Fragment
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One day when dinosaurs where still about the first man is alive. He wondered what was going on for a minute. But, he had as much intelligence as a fly. He said ''flipping heck,
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He sits perfectly still, his arms by his side, back towards me and face to the sea erupting before him. An elderly man, well into his 80sby Thoughtcrime 600 words, 4 comments, on Apr 24 9:33 AM 2006. In Fiction, First person, Prose, Travel writing
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He drinks cups of tea on a Sunday morning, not because he’s hung over but because he simply does. A bag of Yorkshire Tea is dropped,by Thoughtcrime 2200 words, 3 comments, on May 6 11:07 PM 2006. In Dark, Humor, Realism with bells and whistles
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He sits down, a pint of Stella in his hand. From the depths of his pockets comes the tobacco box, metal, hard to decide if any inscriptionsby Thoughtcrime 500 words, 7 comments, on Feb 28 8:35 PM 2006. In Other
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