brighteyes
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My stories
Herstory
"Tell me about Davina," says Carly. I sit five minutes lke a corpse. She asks again. "You can tell me. It's OK." Her voice is a scarf. I begin. "She's blonde. Wait - sometimes
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- 691 reads
Magicians
Come on in. Nurse it here. Athletic legs clop dressage around your chair. Pick one, any. You get to ask each a question first. Then you give over to whatever tricks they've stowed.
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- 711 reads
I am a humbug
It jumps you on the way home, holds on, tells you it's going GNNNFF to kill you, then is gone. The penny drops. I'm a fraud. You start to question everything, from why NOT murder? to whether,
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- 703 reads
A heart-rending account
He's still warm when I return from my shower. I comb my hair and scuff cells from the smothering pillow. He jitters posthumously as I open his chest and truffle about
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- 782 reads
The compassionate surgeon
He lays you down, brings you toffee and rum, not tapioca and tap water, or vegetable oil-based orange. He listens to your pulse with his whole head, tells you it's OK, brings you