In 2017 and 2019 I participated in the
12 Short Stories in 12 Months challenge run by
Writers Write. In 2019 (currently), I have again embarked on this journey. Below, you will find the stories from 2017 as well as the 2019 Stories as I complete them.
Of Shadows and Storm
Eshente stepped through the night. Her footfalls beat a soft cadence against the backdrop of chirruping bugs and in the distance she could hear the soft grumble of a storm building. Clouds had been gathering overhead for some time and no moonlight shone through.
Madame Gresham’s Finishing School for Ambitious Young Ladies
It was almost a kiss. Moonlight had dappled against their skin; a kaleidescope of shadow and light filtering through the oak canopy. The chirrup of night bugs had filled the air and Fiona’s eyes had fluttered closed.
Thell arched her wings too late. The slight updraft that should have slowed her fall didn’t come. Her feet
smacked into the
rough brick and she flung forward. She threw her hands out, pumped her wings furiously, and grappled with her
for solid purchase.
A New Life
Lucy lived her life on gut feel and a creative budget. She was no stranger to unusual rental arrangements, old
and dirt, but this? This was a new low. She ran a finger against the wall, pushing grime aside to reveal a
trace of the faded wallpaper below. It might have been roses once, Lucy wasn’t sure.
Buhle dipped her oar into the Lagoon. Ripples spread out across the surface, distorting the once prosperous
city that lay
beneath the water. It had been called Cape Town, but that was before the ocean invaded the land, before the
went mad and before humankind changed…
Dust lay thick on the furniture. Spots of sun leaked through the worn curtains. Somewhere, a rodent skittered
away on clawed
feet. Kayla stood in the middle of the living room and sighed. She wasn’t sure why she had come. She had given
many years to this place, to the waiting.
The dress was torture. Lace dug into flesh. Satin coiled, a slow compression from waist to throat. Below,
swaths of pallid pink crested atop roiling waves. Raega was drowning. She tried to remain steady, eyes fixed on
the mirrored wall before her, but she was drowning and today she could not hide it.
The hive was beautiful. A drop of sunlight twisting in lazy loops. It all but glowed with promise and Harry
licked his lips in anticipation. He squinted up at the hive and his brain began to whorl. The hive was a good
six meters from the ground, but that was hardly the problem. The real problem, the thing that gave Harry pause,
was the Gigantus Fungalus.
The cloud was thick and acrid. It coursed into the kitchen intent on assault. Jessica stumbled back. An oven
mitt (rust brown with bruises from past battles) fell to the floor. Jessica swore and then she hacked, her
words getting caught on the soot and the quickly thinning air.
Nyah jostled against the other women. Bodies in various stage of undress pressed in on all sides. The locker room was silent of talk. Women shed the green overalls of their employ and replaced them with the dull tones of Labour Caste.