The fortune teller doesn’t notice that her cigarette is slowly burning down to the filter, dropping ash onto her yellowed fingers and the table beneath them. Instead, she is mesmerised by the images in her crystal ball. Continue reading “Ash | Flash Fiction”
The to-do list beckons every day, waiting for its bullet points to be transformed into to-dones. Hours tick by and the to-dos remain, unsatisfactorily unmarked my big ticks or bold strikethroughs. Continue reading “To-Do | Microfiction”
Oh, hello! I would say long time no speak, but it’s only been a little over a week. It feels like an age, though… I’ve missed hanging out in this little writerly corner of the internet.
First things first, thank you for all your lovely well wishes and congratulations on my last blog post. Your lovely comments have given me the warm-and-fuzzies and I really appreciate you taking the time to write them. Continue reading “And Now I Come Crawling Back | Blog”
This blog post is not nearly as dramatic as the title would suggest, I just fancied trying my hand at some clickbait. It’s as unfulfilling as I thought it would be. I just wanted to let you know that you can expect radio silence from me for the next week or so because I’m getting married in six days. Bloody hell…. six days!
My fiancé and I have been engaged for over 18 months and during that time we came *this* close to booking two different venues, actually booked a third one before cancelling it several months later (don’t ask), and then found ourselves spending weekend after weekend painting and DIY-ing and obsessively gardening to get our house in good enough order to host an intimate and “relaxed” wedding reception at home. It’s been quite a journey… Continue reading “I’ve Had Enough | Blog”
Are you tired of the signs of aging? Are wrinkles, sagging skin, and sun spots getting you down? Is your figure not what it once was? Has your figure never been up to scratch? Do you have stubborn fat lurking around your middle? Is your hair turning grey and losing volume? Do you hate looking in the mirror?
Age Reversal Laboratories has the solution: DNA Body Rejuvenation Therapy™.
This all-new cosmetic procedure is perfect for individuals who desire a full body makeover with a single, simple procedure. We can turn back the years in a matter of months. You’ll look younger and feel more confident than ever before. It all begins with your DNA.
What is DNA Body Rejuvenation Therapy™?
You’ve all heard of Dolly the Sheep, right? Well, our technology is the very same as that used to create the famous Dolly, only more advanced, more reliable, and more versatile.
Here’s how it works:
First, you’ll have a consultation with one of expert physicians to discuss the age-related issues you’re dealing with. Then, you’ll talk results. Let us know exactly how you’d like to look, and we’ll make your dreams come true. Stronger cheekbones, perkier buttocks, glossier hair — whatever your vision of your perfect self, we can make it a reality.
Now comes the exciting part.
When your new body has reached maturity, it is humanely slaughtered and prepared for transplant.* The surgery is incredibly simple; we just move your brain from your old body right into your new one…Follow Ellie Scott on WordPress.com
It started when my boss asked for a strong black coffee. My mind catapulted to those cool Sunday mornings when I’d wake you up with a freshly made cup. The house would be tinged in the pale yellow of the early spring sun, and you’d smile at me, eyes still closed, as soon as the aroma of coffee roused you from sleep.
At lunch, it was a dress that did it. Dark blue and covered in little white spots, worn by the woman who stood in front of me in the queue at the supermarket. You had a dress just like it. At least, I think you did; it looked like something you would wear. But I suppose I never paid enough attention. Your wardrobe now is a hazy memory – a blur of blues and whites and greys and every now and again, when I insisted it suited you, a splash of red. Continue reading “I Remember | Flash Fiction”
The monster leers at me with dull, sunken eyes, its mouth agape and spittle smeared across its chin.
Its grey skin is plagued with more yellowing warts than unusual. Its long hair is lanker, greasier, and more dishevelled. I’m sure its hooked nose is more crooked than I’ve ever seen it before.
It’s the last thing I want to look at first thing in a morning, but it can’t be avoided. It took up residence in my bedroom years ago; it’s almost part of the furniture.
I turn away, sick to my stomach, and retrieve my day’s outfit from the wardrobe. Black trousers. Loose grey t-shirt. Black, fine-knit cardigan. Black ankle boots. As close as I can get to an invisibility cloak.
I run a brush through my hair and that’s that — I’m ready. I don’t bother with makeup. Couldn’t bear it.
In the bathroom, I brush my teeth while avoiding eye contact with the monster that lurks in there. It’s a little smaller than the one in the bedroom and easier to ignore if I concentrate hard enough.
There have been times when curiosity has got the better of me and I’ve snatched a glance at it. The shortest of glimpses of its repulsive flesh under the harsh bathroom spotlights — its skin pale and thin enough that I can see the blood pulsing through the veins beneath it — is enough to make me retch…Follow Ellie Scott on WordPress.com
Here I am, living my life, maintaining a routine, going about my day to day as best as I can, when the old bastard turns up and ruins everything.
He doesn’t even knock first. He just walks right into my house, marches up the stairs, wanders into my spare bedroom where my little desk is set up, and glares at me until I cry. Continue reading “A Visit from Self Doubt | Blog”
The queue for Shy Styles snakes right around the block. The men and women patiently waiting in line are all completely silent. Some listen to music through ear buds or headphones. Others tap idly at phone screens and tablets. A few are reading books, while more still simply gaze about them, taking in the cars and people that pass them by.
The same goes for the lucky customers who are at the very front of the queue and able to find seats inside the salon’s foyer. None of them say a word. The only sound is that of a lone hairdryer, which the hairstylist wields expertly as she finishes off a sleek cut and blow dry. Continue reading “Shy Styles | Flash Fiction”
The groom pours stale coffee into a cup, leaving a half an inch of the black liquid in the bottom of the percolator. He brings the cup to his dry lips and takes a long swig to relieve the cotton wool sensation that plagues his tongue.
He needs distraction. He retrieves his phone from his trouser pocket and taps at the screen to access his documents. He skims over the latest draft of an article he’s been battling with for weeks. It’s good. It’s almost perfect. He just can’t seem to find the right words to conclude it.
And he probably won’t be able to find them now as the nerves swirl in his stomach. He takes another sip of coffee and reaches into the inside pocket of his suit, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter.
She’ll turn up her nose when she catches the whiff of stale fag on his breath. He told her he’d quit. She doesn’t know that he never managed to kick that first and only smoke of the day.
When the nicotine has delivered a surge of faux confidence, he tosses the cigarette — only two-thirds smoked — onto the ground and grinds it beneath his shoe. He can probably go through with it, he thinks. It won’t kill him. He’s managed three years already; a lifetime won’t be all that bad…Follow Ellie Scott on WordPress.com