She had to stand on tiptoes — on top of a stack of books, on top of a dining chair — to reach the forbidden cupboard. What might lay inside, she wondered. Chocolate? Sweeties? Chocolate-covered sweeties? She pulled open the door and yelped.
AAAAaaarrggghhhuuuuurrrgggghhhh it burns!
I’m taking a break from writing/posting for a couple of weeks because my brain’s being a real piece of shit at the moment. Plus, I’m going on my jolly holidays to Cornwall next week and I’ll be too busy soothing my soul with Cornish cream teas, catching up with family, and writing “Ellie Rulez” repeatedly in the sand on the beach. In the meantime, here’s a really stupid story that I posted on Medium last week and forgot to link here. I thought it was funny when I wrote it… you be the judge. Ta ta for now. Well there […]
I jump and my stomach – I swear to God – my stomach leaps up into my throat and tries to choke me to death. I cough and hack and gasp for air as I tumble over and over, seeing green then blue then green then blue. Air rushes past me and batters my face, stinging my skin. If this hurts, what will the landing feel like? Face-first into concrete, in an ideal world. Will I feel anything at all or will it all be over before I know it?
Teensy-weensy stories I wrote on social media this week. Molten liquid bubbles in the #crucible while the evil villain looks on. “Time to sacrifice another. Boil away!” Cackling, she tosses the next victim to its death. “Lucy! My best saucepan… look at the mess! Turn off that hob and put those gummy bears down.” “But Mum…”#vss365a — Ellie Scott (@itsemscott) June 2, 2019
“Come down. Please.” “No.” “But it’s been days.” “I’m protesting.” “You can’t stay in the tree forever.” “I can if I want.” “I said sorry.” “Your apology is futile.” “How can I make it up to you?” Continue reading on Medium >
Oh, she’s so fucking old. How is she still clinging on to life? How? “Morning Mrs Tidpot,” I call as I lug her shopping through to the kitchen. “Mm.” She’s quilting as usual. Always bloody quilting. How she isn’t bored to death of it yet I don’t know. “Working on that quilt again, are you?” “Mm.” I put the kettle on and unpack the shopping, wondering who I could get to shoot me if I ever ended up quilting every damn day just to while away the seconds until death. Continue reading on Medium >
Fiona sees her parents’ car pull into the driveway and she slaps her little sister across the face. “Snap out of it, Penny. Now. Do you hear me? Now!” Thirteen-year-old Penny doesn’t snap out of it. She continues to stare at the ceiling, her pupils enormous black holes sucking in reality and twisting it into who knows what.
Silly stories from my social media pages this week… View this post on Instagram A post shared by Ellie Scott (@tinysillystories) on May 27, 2019 at 12:17am PDT